MEMORIES
?^
BY
THE COUNTESS OF MUNSTER
a
^
Presented to the
LIBRARY of the
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
by
SCOTT THOMPSON
^^^^^v^/ouz, ^yta^i^ tf^<J v/ <
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MY MEMORIES
AND MISCELLANIES
I
:VIY MEMORIES
AND MISCELLANIES
BY
THE COUNTESS OF MUNSTER
LONDON
EVELEIGH NASH
1904
MY MEMORIES
AND MISCELLANIES
BY
THE COUNTESS OF MUNSTER
LONDON
EVELEIGH NASH
1904
CONTENTS
BOOK I
MY MEMORIES
Foreword Page vii
I. Childhood at Railshead, 1830-37 „ 3
II. Brighton and William IV., 1830-37 „ 16
III. Windsor Castle, 1835-7 „ 34
IV. Girlhood at Kensington Palace, 18 37-1 84 6 „ 45
V. A Curious Experience „ 71
VI. Queen Adelaide and Marlborough House „ 79
VII. Dresden and my Dream, 1847 „ 83
VIII. Bella Napoli, 1847 „ 99
IX. Paris and Louis Philippe, 1847-8 „ no
X. The Court of Hanover, 1850 „ 129
XI. The Early Court of Queen Victoria, 1850 „ 144
XII. Marriage, 1855 ,,152
XIII. A True Ghost Story „ 159
Y
Contents
BOOK
II
MISCELLANIES
I.
True Refinement
Page 1 69
II.
The Servant Question
„ 186
III.
On Ballad-Singing
„ 198
IV.
A Noble Life
„ 208
V.
A Half-True Story
» 243
The Crimson Portrait
>» 263
n
FOREWORD
Some valued friends have lately expressed a wish
that I should write my reminiscences^ as my long life^
they think^ should embrace not a few interesting
events which may be worth recording ; so, after
suffering pangs of nervous reluctance, I take up my
pen — but oh ! at once I feel how altered all things
seem. I look back down a vista of seventy-three
years, and as I try to put thoughts into words this
adage comes up :
" Hozv cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When memory plays an old tune on the heart J "
And — one never can forget J Some changes are
so odd, so startling — and yet so insignificant.
However, I decide to make the effort, and instantly
small things crop up to remind me of timers flight.
For example, I used in days of yore only quill
pens : now 1 am writing with a horrid thing
called a '* y," hard steel, and the ink does not run
so easily nor so merrily as it did then. But hush !
Is there not an old but very true saying, that it
is only the indifferent workmen who find fault with
vu
Foreword
their tools ? In the present instance^ however^ it is a
work-woman who grumbles. Perhaps that may make
a difference^ or am I taking unfair advantage of the
chivalry of my male readers ? Well I all I can do is
to claim their forbearance., and beg them to remember
that I am an old woman — weak., sad., and tired;
only waiting — waiting to go Home ^'- for good and
all^'' as the children say.
Vlll
BOOK I
MY MEMORIES
o
O
V
'B
I
CHILDHOOD AT RAILSHEAD
1830-37
I remember, I remember.
How my childhood fleeted by.
The mirth of its December,
And the warmth of its July !
W. H. Praed.
I WAS born on June 27, 1830 (the day after the
death of King George IV.). My birthplace was
Dun House, Montrose ; and, on my father's
side I am tout ce quit y a de plus Ecossais^ as he
was the second son of the then Earl of Cassilis
(afterwards the first Marquis of Ailsa), but my
mother was the youngest daughter of the Duke
of Clarence (afterwards William IV.) by the
famous, fascinating and unhappy actress, Dorothy
Jordan.
King William IV. had nine children by Mrs.
3
My Memories
Jordan,* and her home and that of the Duke of
Clarence and their children was for years at Bushey
House, in Bushey Park, and for long Bushey was a
happy and beloved home to the FitzClarence family
— until, in fact, the Duke of Clarence married the
Princess Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen ; then, of
course, and perforce, that happy home came to an
end. But I feel more than rejoiced to be enabled
now to give my affectionate and respectful testi-
mony to the gracious and Christianlike love and
tenderness ever offered to the poor actress's
children by the Duchess of Clarence, afterwards
Queen Adelaide, who, to the day of her death,
treated the numerous FitzClarence family as only
a loving and gentle woman could.
I remember Queen Adelaide and her kind acts
well, and know what it must have cost her tender
heart at times to see this beautiful familyaround her
(her husband's but not her own), and yet she ever
* They were: (i) George, first Earl of Munster ;
(2) Frederick, in the Army ; (3) Adolphus, a rear-admiral ;
(4) Augustus, in holy orders ; (5) Sophia, married the first Lord
de risle ; (6) Mary, m. Colonel Fox ; (7) Elizabeth, m. the
Earl of Errol ; (8) Augusta, m. first, Hon. John Kennedy
Erskine, secondly, Lord John Frederick Gordon ; (9) Amelia, m.
Viscount Falkland. All the eight younger children were raised
to the rank of the younger children of a marquis.
4
/
,f
'hp ^i\^V
for )'■
V wa»
nee fa
r>r,r actress 5
-icawi; .cticut^c, aftcTwards
ne day of her death,
;rous :tice f
kind acts
s but nc
I
MRS JORDAN
childhood at Railshead
loved them, and helped them with a mother's
tenderness !
I pray God bless her for this, and we may be
sure that at this moment she is reaping the benefits
of her unselfish Christian love to those who
were much in her power for good or for evil. It
was an awkward, I might have said a painful,
position to all parties, had not God's love filled
the good Queen's heart with motherly kindness for
those orphan children and grandchildren (of which
latter I was one) of her husband. Her goodness
to them lived on even after the King's death,
until she breathed her last, and I am proud of
being her godchild.
A noble queen she was and, better, a true lady ;
and better still than both, a loving tender woman,
who, seeing well the wrong, the pity of a thing,
knew how, and when, to use her eyelids — instead
of her eyes — only opening them again to reassure
and to sympathise.
Peace be to her memory.
* * * * *
When quite small children we lived in a
charming brick house situated on the River
Thames. It was called *' Railshead " in conse-
5
My Memories
quence, I suppose, of its situation, for a long iron-
work railing ran along the whole of one side of
the garden, the house standing back above it.
This terrace was raised high above the river, and I
loved, as a child, to sit perched at the top of a
certain large iron-work basket, full of geraniums,
and watch the boats and barges as they skimmed
noiselessly by.
I know not why, but all my life, although I
have visited many foreign countries, the loveli-
ness of no other river, however picturesque its
surroundings, has ever touched my heart as the
" homey " and innocent beauty of our River
Thames. But I confess to being a real John Bull !
Beneath the Railshead terrace, along the side of
the river, ran a long narrow pathway, much over-
grown by green rushes, slender reeds, and a peculiar
kind of tall white lily, and I would, as a wee child,
at a certain hour every day, perch my small self at
the top of the large wire basket mentioned above,
which was conveniently placed close to the terrace
railing, and watch for the coming of a certain
steamboat — a miracle in those days ! — which, as
she slid by, I declared, and believed, sent enormous
waves to the shore to announce her arrival to the
6
Childhood at Railshead
excited lilies, which, with the rushes, emitted a
peculiar rustle-rustle-rustle — I can hear it to
this day — as they bowed their dignified and civil
greeting to the passing water-monster.
I perfectly remember my delight and amaze-
ment the first time I saw the steamboat ruffling
the river and rustling the lilies beneath our
terrace. The steamboat was named the En-
deavour^ being, it was thought in those primitive
days, a good sensible name for such an under-
taking as the steamer was, she being the first, and,
at that time, the only passenger boat.
We could see pretty Richmond Bridge from
Railshead terrace, and it was very amusing to
me to watch the Endeavour as she bowed
her black funnels to pass beneath the archways.
Soon — very soon — there were other steam-
boats, and then, like everything else, the novelty
passed away.
My paternal grandparents' (Lord and Lady
Ailsa's) house, called " St. Margaret's," was next to
ours. The terraces joined, and there was a door
of communication between the two gardens, not
much used, alas ! in later days, for my mother,
having married a second time, had thus given
7
My Memories
dire offence to the old lord and lady — a quarrel
which was never made up.
My mother's father, King William IV., used
often to drive from London to Isleworth to see his
daughter and us children, whom he fondly loved.
I cannot have been more than three or four
years old when 1 had a very dangerous illness ; in
fact, I nearly died from brain fever, and the old
King William, hearing of my mother's grief (she
had not been very long a widow) drove down to
see her.
How strange it is that certain solitary events
make impressions on a child's mind, but rarely
anything consecutive remains. I distinctly re-
member at this time feeling a terrible pain in my
head, then I remember the sudden appearance of a
certain Doctor Julius coming towards my bed,
carrying a large china soup-plate full of horrible,
struggling, greasy, slimy-looking black things,
which he seemed to be manipulating between his
fingers and thumb. He approached me, with my
weeping mother, and — I remember no more ! Of
course the horrid creatures were leeches (I was
subsequently acquainted with this fact), and they
were placed on my poor little head, and after-
Childhood at Railshead
wards I was told one of those beasts, more hungry,
we may suppose, than its fellows, got hold of a
vein on the top of my head, and had to be forcibly
torn away, and Julius had to sit for hours with his
finger on the lacerated spot to prevent my bleed-
ing to death. As it was, I nearly died, and this
was the cause of one of the kind old King's
visits. He drove down to Railshead in his chariot
(then pronounced charroti). Of course I was too
dangerously ill to see him arrive, but when I got
better, and the dear old man came again, I was
then permitted to see his departure from the
nursery window, in my nurse's arms. With
much glee I gazed on the two postboys, in pale
blue jackets, white breeches, and white beaver hats.
My dear mother told me the kind old King wept
at seeing me so weak and frail, but he was de-
lighted when my mother asked me, '* Mina, do
you know who this is } " and I answered, " It is
grandpapa ! " My mother thereupon burst into
tears, and said, throwing her arms round his neck,
*' Yours, Sir, is the first face she has known for
weeks ! " She never forgot this joy, and I never
forgot the postboys and the grey horses.
My Memories
One of my earliest recollections of Railshead
was, when I was a very little girl, my mother
took me to the theatre at Richmond-on-Thames.
I think, although I cannot say this for certain
(and it is not a matter of great import) that
the performance must have been either a panto-
mime or a circus. More likely the latter, as there
were any number of horses, donkeys ridden by
monkeys, and so forth ; besides, surely a small
person of my age would not otherwise have
been taken. My mother had been asked to
" bespeak " the play, but I knew but little about
it, except that my nurse, Crockett, looked cross
when first she heard of it, and said (not before my
mother, of course) that it was a sin to take such
a " brat " to the theatre. I, being at that time
rather a good-looking " brat," was often taken
about to be shown by my mother, dressed very
smartly, and, in the present case, the fact that
Crockett was told that she must, of necessity,
be one of the party rather seemed to compensate
in her eyes for the folly and " the sin " of the
thing.
I remember when we entered the theatre my
delight knew no bounds, for we were received by
lO
Childhood at Railshead
two "gentlemen" in uniform, who walked before
us carrying candles ! Then, young as I was, I
recognised that the band played " God Save the
King," as we marched in in great, and quite
undeserved, dignity.
1 don't know what the performance was. I only
know those were lovely horses and donkeys with
long ears, ridden by monkeys — so it must have
been a circus. After the first part, and quite
suddenly, I began to feel " queer." Then the
lights seemed to dance about instead of the
horses, and at last I said, quite unashamed,
" Mama ! I'm going to be sick ! " My
mother spoke hastily to one of the gentlemen who
were with us, and who seemed to know his way
about. He ran hurriedly out of the box. After
a few minutes of agony, a most gentlemanlike-
looking man, who I afterwards heard called " the
manager," whispered something to my mother,
caught me up in his arms and carried me down
some dark, forbidding-looking passages, lit by
single gas-lamps. After all these years I feel it
must have looked as if I were being carried to
instant execution — or to solitary confinement at
least ! But I was too unwell then to care ; besides
II
My Memories
Crockett was bringing up the rear ; and after what
I thought an interminable and most dangerous
journey, we found ourselves at the back of the
stage, behind a curtain, in a small closet of a
room, and with the largest basin I ever saw, and —
I have never been so sick since ! After a little,
Crockett brought me some eau-de-Cologne and I
got better. The kind gentleman again appeared
and carried me — this time to my mother's carriage ;
and I remember feeling deeply injured that
" God Save the King " was not played again at
my exit !
I was taken home by Crockett, fell fast asleep
during the journey, and remembered no more.
Years afterwards I came across the old basin in a
shop in Richmond, and felt I had found an old
friend.
* * * * #
When I was a few years older, and still living
at Railshead, a very painful circumstance occurred
which it took me long years (not to forget, for
that I never shall) to get over.
Our nurseries — four rooms, quite small — used
to donner on the river, and often, like naughty ^
children after being put to bed, I and my sister,
12
childhood at Railshead
in the summer when the windows were wide
open, would sit upright in our beds, sometimes
putting our pillows under us to raise us higher
(always supposing Crockett was not looking !)
and watch the little boats and barges skim along
in the darkness, with their golden-coloured
lamps, while the oars as they broke the water
would shimmer and gleam tremulously — especially
if there were a moon appearing through the trees
on the Surrey side of the river — like sheet
lightning. Sometimes the occupants of the boats
would sing (men's and women's voices), often to
a guitar, and delight us as they glided by, for even
at that early age I loved music.
One night, however, something awful happened.
I was almost asleep ; it was a very hot night, and
suddenly I was awakened by a woman's scream, then
another, and then a man's rough voice and a
splash 1 I started up in my bed and called the
nurse, who slept in the next room with the door
open : " Crockett ! Crockett ! "
Then, raising myself, I saw that my sister
Millicent was asleep, but Crockett was up, and
I could see her through the doorway, with half
her body (in nothing but her nightgown) out of
13
My Memories
the window. She was evidently much excited,
and dancing about from one window to the other
to find the one she could see through best.
" Crockett, what is it ? " I called.
" Nonsense ; go to sleep. Miss Mina."
But I couldn't. So, getting up (Millicent was
still asleep) I ran noiselessly along the room and
stood behind the nurse, who was still hanging out
of the window. But I could not be still, for I
heard footsteps of men running down to the river
side, and Crocket called out in a sort of hoarse
whisper, which should have wakened the dead, to
the butler, who also had been roused :
" What is the matter ? "
Crockett got no answer, and presently I heard
his step and that of another man, then the
dragging of a boat out of the boathouse. I could
hear them jump into the boat, the oars were jerked
into their rowlocks, and then I heard them rowing
off, as if for dear life.
I could bear no more. I tugged at the nurse's
nightgown and began to cry.
" Where is (I forget the butler's name)
gone to ? and what — oh, what was that scream ? "
" Nonsense ! you tiresome child ! Go to bed.
Childhood at Railshead
It was only Mary (the nurserymaid) who has the
nightmare ! "
*' What ? " I said, for living so long in the
country I knew what a " mare " was. *' What !
in bed with her ? " Of course that made her
scream, and I no longer wondered at it ; but I
quietly went to bed again, only fearful lest Mary's
night mare might take a fancy to me ; and then,
I thought, shouldn't / have screamed !
The next day, however — little pitchers have long
ears ! — I overheard every one speaking about the
" scream," but none of them mentioned Mary ;
and I also could not understand whose throat had
been cut " from ear to ear," and a nameless
horror came over me. When night came I begged
Crockett to have the nursery windows closed so
that Mary's night mare might be kept outside !
Years afterwards I heard that a poor woman
had been murdered in a barge by the bargeman,
who had cut her throat and thrown her into the
river. I was too young then to be told the par-
ticulars, but the bargeman was hanged.
15
II
BRIGHTON AND WILLIAM IV
^830-37
What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long ?
But ever amid our playing
I hear but their low, lone song.
Longfellow.
Take, O boatman, twice thy fee,
Take — I give it willingly.
For invisible to thee
Spirits twain have crossed with me !
Uhland.
I. THE CHAIN PIER
I HAVE remarked before how curious it is that
one only remembers facts concerning one's child-
hood by fits and starts, and piecemeal. I wonder
why .'' Why do I remember distinctly this fact or
this person, and why not that fact and that per-
son .? This is eminently the case with my juvenile
16
-n, twice thy fee,
=r It willingly,
- to thee
...u.i have crossed ,%■:;; .
THE CH
one oniy remembers facts ct e's chiid-
hood by tits and starts, and r •il. 1 '■
^v^ hydo I remember distinctly this >
this nerson. nnd why not that fact aj
' " ■ ainentJy the case with
16
WILLIAM IV.
Brighton and William IV
recollections concerning Brighton ; but as to
one thing, despite my fragmentary way of telling
my story, I must beg my kind readers' minds to
be completely at rest. It is that whatever I relate
is absolutely and literally true ; and truth, after all,
is worth something.
So to begin about Brighton.
I love Brighton, every stone in it ; but more
especially its ancient stones. But what to me are
ancient stones are not its oldest, for they would
date long before I was '* born or thought of ! "
Brighton, as Brighton, sprang into existence — an
acknowledged existence — in 1782, when George,
Prince of Wales of that day, visited it, and
straightway loved the place (and apparently a great
many people in it ! ), with a lasting love, too, of
which his capricious nature rarely showed itself
capable.
The original Brighton dates back to quite a
century and a half ago, or more, being then styled
" Brighthelmstone." We are told that it was then
only a fishing village, the very site of which was on
one dreadful day swallowed up by the sea, a catas-
trophe which the modern Brightonians seem to do
their best to prevent occurring again ; hence the
17 B
My Memories
strong, beautiful, modern sea wall, which has become
one of the most fascinating and enjoyable of pro-
menades, one might say, in all England ; and hence
those enticing buttresses which shelve down into
the sea, forming a fruitful source of danger to
nursery-maids and their charges, and to small inde-
pendent boys, who seem to take every advantage
of the tempting danger so liberally held out to
them.
One irreparable calamity, however, in spite of all
the modern Brightonians' care, has within the last few
years overtaken Brighton. On December 5, 1896,
the beloved old Chain Pier was utterly demolished.
On that morning people were startled from their
beds by the appalling news that the whole Chain
Pier had collapsed in the night ! This old structure
had heroically borne the brunt of the wind and ot
the wild sea waves for over seventy years, and
already there had not been those wanting who
grumblingly complained that the pier was " not
safe," had " become unsightly," that its ancient
glory of paint and polish had faded, that it began
to look dilapidated, &c. New piers were beginning
to be built, but / always felt that an old friend
stood there, sad and lone, but dignified, like an old
18
Brighton and William IV
beau of the ancient school. Now, however, he
has gone. He had stood the day before his dis-
appearance just as ever, but in the night, alas 1 the
sea had been wilder than usual, and half an hour
before the tide was at its highest — it came from the
south-east — my dearly-loved old friend, my old
beau, gave up all for lost, and with a crash the
disaster supervened. Many spectators expected
and awaited the blow, and in an instant, with a
roar, two piles disappeared, the wreck being the
matter of a few minutes, and before surprise or
regret could be expressed, the head of the pier,
the dear old " deck " which had so often been
paced by the Sailor King, was also gone 1
Oh ! how I loved that old pier ! How I
mourned its loss, for it was a personal friend 1 I
am quite old enough to remember the yearly visits
of the Sailor King and his good Queen Adelaide
to Brighton, where constantly I, in company with
my nurse or mother, used to walk on the Chain
Pier. King William said (I have heard him)
that he liked pacing its deck, as it was the place
that reminded him of what had ever been the
happiest place in the whole world to him — the
deck of a ship. Oh ! the " Wooden Walls of Old
19
My Memories
England ! " What would he say to the changes
now ? I ever felt that the old Chain Pier was
the only picturesque object in all Brighton, and a
few weeks before its disastrous disappearance I
wrote a letter to one of the local papers, begging
the authorities not to demolish it as they threatened,
imploring them to let it die a natural death. A
few days later the *' old beau " took his fate into
his own hands, and after a short struggle — was not 1
All the next day pieces, both large and small, of the
debris came rushing and dashing upon the beach,
and I rejoice to say that I obtained a small piece,
and keep it as a relic of what was to me an old
and loved friend.
They stood aloof, the scars remaining
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder,
A dreary sea now flows between.
Perhaps some of my friends will forgive my
describing a little scene that took place one morn-
ing on the Chain Pier, while my mother and I were
walking there with the old Sailor King. I did
not understand it then, but I do now — the beauty
of it.
We were pacing up and down the deck, when
an old Brighton dame of the bourgeois class
zo
Brighton and William IV
appeared at our side. She had evidently been ad-
mitted to the pier by accident, as for the two hours
or so, during which the King generally enjoyed his
deck-walk, no one was admitted, unless he or she
belonged to the suite. The old lady had been to
the *' fancy shop," of which there used to be many
on the pier, and, probably, while there the sales-
woman told her that his Majesty and suite were on
the deck. She was greatly flustered, and in her
agitation, when she left the shop, ran into the
King's very arms. He was so well known by sight
that she recognised him at once, and, much per-
turbed, would have turned tail and fled. But the
old sailor gentleman would have none of that.
He quickly approached the perturbed old lady,
and, putting his hand on her arm, kindly addressed
her:
'* Madam, whither away so fast ? May J not
have the pleasure of making your acquaintance ^ "
and he took ofi^ his hat.
*' Oh, your Majesty ! " exclaimed the confused
dame, " I never thought of your being here or I
should not have come ! "
" But since you are here, and we have met, may
I not have the pleasure of your acquaintance .'' "
zi
My Memories
Then quite a lively conversation ensued, pleasant
to the royal and kindly sailor and never afterwards
forgotten by the delighted old recipient of his
chivalrous civility. Of King William it may be truly
said that :
. . . He bore without abuse
The grand old name of " gentleman."
II. THE PAVILION
King William and Queen Adelaide came to
Brighton professedly pour s amuser^ and as far as
possible to cast ofF the trammels of royalty, which
always more or less taxed the old King's patience.
One or other of his daughters generally dined of
an evening at the Pavilion, and the King's greatest
pleasure consisted in sending every morning to
the two principal hotels in Brighton — there were
not so many hotels then as there' are now —
desiring that their visitors' list should be sub-
mitted to him. This took place during the King's
breakfast, in order that his Majesty might see
whether any of his personal friends were in the
town ; and should the names of any be registered
who were pleasing to the King, a command was
22
Brighton and William IV
forthwith sent inviting the party, or parties, to
dinner that evening.
Now King William, from the varied circum-
stances of his life, had a much larger acquaintance
than most individuals in his position ; but he also
had the peculiarity, which seems to be one of our
Royal Family's especial gifts — he rarely forgot a
name, but never a face.
On one evening a clergyman had been invited,
of some quite ordinary name, such as Smith
or Jones ; anyhow it was a name which the King
thought he knew as belonging to an old ac-
quaintance. When the hour arrived for the
King and Queen to enter the room at the
Pavilion where the company were assembled, the
King generally took the arm of one of his daughters,
so that she might mention the guests' names to the
King, who thereupon shook hands and said a few
kindly words of welcome. This evening my mother
chanced to be the King's guide. Everything went
off well, the King, with his usual graciousness,
shaking hands and bidding the gentlemen and
ladies welcome. Suddenly, however, the King
stopped short before a gentleman garbed as a
clergyman, and before my mother could say a
23
My Memories
word, he exclaimed in a voice of mingled astonish-
ment and annoyance, "And who the d 1 are
you, sir ? I never asked you / "
My mother always used to say, in telling the
story, that she really thought she should have
fainted from horror at the moment. The poor
gentleman looked much distressed at first, but
quickly recovering himself, he said with great
dignity :
" I confess, your Majesty, that your Majesty's
command took me completely by surprise, as I
have never been so honoured before ; but, as there
was no other clergyman of my name in the hotel,
I conceived it my duty to obey the command."
By this time the King had recovered himself.
With a few pleasant words and shaking hands
kindly with the now mollified clergyman, he passed
on to his other guests ; but my mother said that she
felt distressed all through dinner. The old King,
too, felt how discourteous he had been, and was
determined to mend matters thoroughly, so directly
after dinner was over, just as, at the royal signal,
people had risen to leave the room, the King stood
up, singled out a glass, had it filled, and said in
a loud voice that all should hear :
24
Brighton and William IV
" Ladies and gentlemen, fill your glasses ; I
propose a toast. Let us drink to the health of
my new friend, the Rev. Mr. , and to our
long friendship."
This gracious act healed all soreness, and the
clergyman felt himself happy and honoured.
I must not forget how kind Queen Adelaide
used to be to the children in Brighton at that
time. Her Majesty used to organise amusements
for them, for she and the King were real child-
lovers. It must have been a great grief to her
that her own two little ones died in infancy. She
used every Christmas Eve to prepare an enormous
Christmas tree, which was lit up with tapers, while
from the boughs were hung gilded fruits — apples,
pears, walnuts, &c. — and innumerable gifts of
value for her ladies and for the guests young and
old. The children were made to walk into a room
in the Pavilion, called the " Dragon-room," by
twos and twos. On one occasion I remember the
two youngest children, who chanced to be my
sister Millicent and Lucius Cary, the only son of
Lord Falkland, led the way hand-in-hand into
the wonderful room, the ceiling of which was,
and is still, ornamented by big dragons crawling
25
My Memories
weirdly all over it and clinging, apparently
most uncertainly, to it, while supporting large
glass chandeliers. As a child I was terrified at
these, to me, awful monsters, lest one of them
should at some moment flop down from the
ceiling and run about, like us children, in search
oi a table with its " dragonish " name pinned
upon it, or — worse still — lest one dragon, more
hungry than the rest, should crawl down, catch me
up, and make a Christmas meal off me.
Oh ! those dear, delightful evenings ! If ever
I enter that room at the Pavilion even now I
scarcely know whether to laugh or cry. I look
up at the monsters, and feel sorry that the dream
of my childish terror should no longer exist, and
whisper low to the fierce-looking dragons : '* Ah !
you and I are older friends than the people here
know ! "
On those festive occasions everything went
well ; and I think the happiest moment of those
most happy evenings was when, after a kind
embrace from the King and Queen, each pair of
children was set free to search for, and find his
or her own table. Small round tables, upholstered
in white, were dotted about all over the room with
26
Brighton and William IV
each child's name pinned upon the one dedicated to
him or her, and covered with bon-bons and toys of
every variety ; no one can conceive the delight
and shouting when each child discovered its own
property.
Ah ! ces beaux jours sont passes !
The old King and Queen and most of their suite
and guests are long dead and gone, and the Pavilion
itself is no longer a royal palace, but is used for
public meetings, flower shows, bazaars and subscrip-
tion balls. I wonder what the dragons think of
the change 1
T^ T^ tF '7P ifP
Good King William was not only fond of little
children, but he also loved, and was proud of, the
English schoolboy, and spending the Christmas, as
he often did, in Brighton, he became greatly inter-
ested in two large boys' schools situated not far
from the Pavilion. One of these schools was
" patronised " much by " the nobility," and the
other by boys of lower rank, sons of gentlemen.
The two schools had been nicknamed " The
House of Lords " and "The House of Commons."
The King was interested in both, and knew many of
the boys and their parents intimately. At times,
27
My Memories
perhaps from delicacy of health or from other
causes, some of the boys would be condemned
to stay at school during the holidays. King
William would kindly find out the names of such
boys and invite them to spend the afternoon in
the Pavilion gardens, and on such occasions he
would himself go into the gardens, or into the
rooms set aside for the boys to play in, and talk
kindly to them, inquiring about their homes, rela-
tions, &c. One day, however, the headmaster,
for some reason, thought it prudent that a master
should be sent with the boys, and when the King
found this out he was displeased, and said to the
usher :
" English boys are English gentlemen, and,
I feel sure, require no supervision when invited
to make the acquaintance of their King ! "
After this the unfortunate master " made him-
self scarce," and the boys enjoyed themselves cer-
tainlyas well, if not better, without him.
III.
My mother had a house at Brighton in Brunswick
Terrace, overlooking the sea, and my love for the
28
Brighton and William IV
view of the sea was very great. I believe it was
from constantly sitting at the window — if I could
get it open I liked it more — that I caught a
terrible toothache. I remember spending one
whole night of agony, and it was thereupon de-
cided that I must have my poor little tooth out.
This, to me, was an awful decision^ but to take my
mind off it I took my usual morning's walk on the
Chain Pier. King William was there as usual, and
he was much distressed at seeing my red eyes, and
asked why I had been crying. With many curtseys,
my nurse, Crockett, informed his Majesty what
ordeal was threatening me in the afternoon, and he
said kindly that if I was a good courageous girl,
and did not fret, he would send me two little visitors
to have tea with me when I returned from the
dentist. My curiosity of course was great. Who
could the visitors be ? At all events the King's
object was attained, for I was so curious about
the mysterious visitors that I almost forgot the
dentist.
The operation took place — a wee tooth was taken
out and seemed to me a mere nothing, I was so
anxious to get home. On arriving there what
should I see but two beautifully dressed dolls
19
My Memories
quietly sitting at the table awaiting my arrival,
before a lovely china tea-set! One was in pink,
with " Mina " pinned upon her beautiful ball dress,
and the other was dubbed " Millicent," my
sister's name, and was dressed in blue. Never shall
I forget our delight ; and a letter was affixed to
the pink doll desiring me and my sister Millicent
to bring both the young ladies, sitting so gravely
at the table, to be presented to their Majesties the
following day at the Pavilion. Alas ! a most
heartbreaking incident occurred. I was so
delighted with my new doll that I must needs
walk up and down, up and down, with the young
lady, and kiss her constantly. I forgot about
the dentist and my poor little mouth. I fell with
her in my arms. My mouth began to bleed vio-
lently, and before I was aware of the catastrophe my
poor dolly's pink silk was utterly destroyed and her
beautiful arms were smashed. My dear mother was
much distressed, and that night, when she was
dining at the Pavilion, told her father of the mis-
fortune and of my grief, and he directly sent to
the shop and ordered me another doll. It came,
but not before I had cried and cried as I had never
cried before.
30
Brighton and William IV
When my Dolly died — when my Dolly died,
I sat on the step, and I cried, and I cried,
And I couldn't eat my jam and bread,
'Cause it didn't seem right, when my doll was dead.
And Bridget was sorry as she could be.
For she patted my head, and "Oh," said she,
*'To think that the pretty has gone and died ! "
Then I broke out afresh, and I cried, and cried.
We dug her a grave in the violet bed.
And planted violets at her head.
And we raised a stone, and wrote quite plain,
" Here lies a dear Doll, that died of pain."
And then my brother said "Amen,"
And we all went back to the House again.
But all the time, I cried, and cried.
Because 'twas right when my doll had died !
And then we had more jam and bread.
But I didn't eat, 'cause my doll was dead !
And I tied some crape on my doll's house door.
And then I cried, and cried some more.
I couldn't be happy, don't you see ?
Because the funeral belonged to me.
And then my friends went home — and then,
I went — and dug up my doll again !
The funniest part of the story, however, remains
to be told.
Dear old nurse, Mrs. Crockett, eminently a
nurse of the old school, who had nursed and
brought up almost every Kennedy that ever was
born, used to wear the most impossible " mob-
caps," which she manufactured herself on an
31
My Memories
article called a " dummy," a thing rather the shape
of a skull, upon which we children looked with
the greatest reverence. These caps were made of
white muslin lined with a colour, and with a poke
and a bow at the top.
Crockett felt that, as she would go with us to the
Pavilion the next day to present our dolls to the
King, she would have to be present, and conse-
quently must have a clean cap. So with much admira-
tion, not unmixed with awe, we watched Crockett
building up this wonderful erection to wear the
following day at the presentation. We saw her
try it on with trembling admiration, then suddenly
it entered my mind, as we were all going to
the PaviHon, that nothing would enhance their
beauty so much as to endow each doll with a
Crockett cap ! We felt sure it would be a
unique mark of gratitude to the King, and give
him an unexpected pleasure. Crockett was
flattered at the idea of her mob being immortalised,
and it was done. The presentation ceremony
was duly gone through next day with eclat I
Whether the " mobs " were much admired I
cannot remember ; but I was rather in luck, and
received a gift from a " grand old gentleman," as
32
Brighton and William IV
I considered him, whom we saw at the palace, who
told me I was a " pretty little miss." He was a
foreign prince, and presented me with a long glass
bottle — a facsimile of those we were in the habit of
seeing when condemned to take castor oil. There
was no castor oil, however, in this bottle, but a
lovely little carriage carved in wood, with horses,
coachman, and footman complete, and the giver's
name was Prince Ernest (or Philip, I forget which)
of Philipstal. It was lovely ! The wheels turned
round and were beautifully coloured. I was en-
chanted, and for days it was a source of delight
and wonderment to me as to how the little
vehicle ever got into the bottle. I also, from
the very first moment, harboured a guilty de-
termination to get it out, a resolve, alas 1 very
soon put into practice ; it caused not only the
destruction of the glass home and its inmates, but
also floods of hopeless tears, because things thus
destroyed could no more be replaced '* as they used
to wasT How often happy homes are broken up
in a moment of mad folly, and how fruitless are
the tears then shed !
33
Ill
WINDSOR CASTLE
1835-7
Thou who stealest fire,
From the fountains of the past,
To glorify the present ; oh, haste,
Visit my low desire !
Strengthen me, enlighten me !
I faint in this obscurity.
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
I
It is curious how little I remember of Windsor
Castle, although I was often there in my early-
childhood when good King William reigned. One
would have thought that such a dream of beauty
as Windsor would have left its impression on even
a child's mind. But, as I reiterate, children " take
in " certain isolated facts, such as forms and faces,
strange voices or sounds, scents, and so forth,
which they never forget, and which, unimportant
3+
Windsor Castle
as they may be, come up to them later in life,
presenting themselves mysteriously to the imagi-
nation at unexpected and apparently irrelevant
moments, while more important things are for-
gotten. The ** fleeting ghosts " these little things
are of some memory that stirred their conscious-
ness at the time when they were, according to
modern parlance, " too young for anything."
For example, I can see even now, whenever I
like, and through the mists in my now aged
brain, an old palace in red brick, somewhere, I
think, near Kew, it it be not Kew itself. I can
see faces there, and old-fashioned flower-beds,
which do not certainly exist to-day, and — . But I
must pull myself up, or my " havering " will con-
jure up a stern literary policeman, who will urge
me to " move on," and I shall feel inclined to
answer, all in my fancy, as I once heard a poor
woman do when hard pressed by a persistent
" Bobby," " I ham movin' hon ! I'm alius movin'
hon ! but where to ? " Poor woman !
However, that red brick palace was not Windsor,
and what I am about to talk about is.
One pleasant memory I have of Windsor is
sufficiently interesting. Every morning I and my
35
My Memories
brother and sister used to be sent for by King
William for us to see his kind cheery face and head
washed by his old valet, Jemmett, in a large silver
ewer — I am happy to say I possess that ewer at
this moment — in the most delicious rose-water.
The ceremony used always to be performed by
Jemmett, who had lived with the King for years.
A fresh bottle was used each time, being un-
corked in the room ; the King, whose hair was
short and quite white, would place his head over
the ewer, a large towel having been tied round
his neck, and the sweet water was poured over
it, into the ewer, and then a sponging process
used to go on for some moments, filling the room
with delicious odour. I think, at that moment,
I wished I was King ; more at that moment than
any other. After the ablution, came the drying
on a soft towel ; then the coat and waistcoat were
donned, and with a rosy and sweet-smelling face,
the old King, after kissing the small children,
would walk into the breakfast-room, and for the
time we saw him no more. To this day the scent of
■ rose-water calls up to me that memory of the past.
Many of the King's grandchildren used, by
his wish, to be drilled, while others were taught
36
Windsor Castle
to dance ; and these lessons used to take place
at different times in a room in the castle, called
the " Octagon Room." The drilling was under-
taken by a certain soldier of. the name of Win-
terbottom ; and although 1 can remember his
euphonious name, I cannot recall his rank in
the Army, nor to what regiment he belonged ;
but I do remember that we children loved Winter-
bottom, as did our nursemaids, for once I re-
member being hastily caught up out of my bath,
wrapped in a sheet, and held up all dripping at the
window, delighted at the nurse's words : " Come
and kiss your hand to Winterbottom, he is passing
by with several other soldiers " (all beautiful Win-
terbottoms, I thought, and all on beautiful horses),
and the hero himself seemed delighted at the
recognition.
One more memory. I and several of the other
children were one day being initiated into the mys-
teries of dancing by a foreign gentleman, who
was giving us the time and tune on a very small
violin, called a " kit." We were in the Octagon
Room, in the afternoon, and suddenly there seemed
as though a violent blow had been dealt to one of
the eight doors, bursting it open in a most terrifying
37
My Memories
fashion ; and judge of our childish feelings when
within the doorway appeared a " black man,"
blacker than any devil we had ever heard of. He
had scarcely any clothes on, his dress consisting
principally of huge coloured feathers on his head,
and a few coloured rags round his waist. He
held a spear, and was accompanied by others of the
same ilk.
They evidently enjoyed our childish terror,
dancing and gesticulating at us as they passed
through the room, and it was only later that we
were told they were the first Ojibbeway Indians
that had ever appeared in England, and had come
to do homage to the King. They were amusing
themselves en route by terrifying us children by
their shouts and wild gestures.
One other anecdote about Windsor and I really
have done.
One happy day some of us children were com-
manded to appear at luncheon, and I sadly fear I
did not " behave " with due decorum. I was
placed by the side of a lady who seemed to me far
younger than the rest of the guests ; but I did not
know her, and never having learnt what fear or
shyness was, I began, as I conceived, to make
38
Windsor Castle
myself agreeable, and to put my next-door neigh-
bour at her ease. So I began with much amiability :
" Parlez vous Frangais, mademoiselle ? "
The little lady smiled and bowed, but did not
answer, and gave me no further encouragement.
I was not, however, in the habit of being snubbed
or silenced ; so for a second time I asked :
" Parlez vous Fran^ais ? "
This time the lady took no notice, so I began
to think myself rather injured, but not being
inclined to put up with anything in the way of a
rebuke, and besides, being unaware I had trans-
gressed in any way, I again, irritating child that
I was, repeated the senseless question, and was
thereupon rebuked by another lady I did not
know, who told me I had no right to address Her
Royal Highness ; and afterwards I was told it was
the Princess Victoria whose dignity I had offended.
» * * * *
Many years later, under much sadder circum-
stances, the late Queen Victoria commanded my
presence at Windsor, and the audience was in the
Octagon Room. This seemed to me such an
irony of circumstances that it quite upset me. In
the course of conversation her Majesty, who was
39
My Memories
most kind, asked me " whether I knew Windsor
Castle ?" I very nearly told her Majesty how
very much I knew of it, but my cheerfulness and
courage had failed me from many sorrows, and
I let it pass, merely bowing my head.
II
LE ROI EST MORT— VIVE LA REINE !
Well ! Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse / and
after the Windsor and the Brighton days had passed
by, dear old Railshead again became our home ;
but it was no longer the happy home it had been.
Circumstances had changed ; my dear mother
married a second time, to Lord Frederick Gordon.
My grandparents did not like my mother's marry-
ing again, and Railshead became the scene of
squabblings and family bickerings between her and
the old lord and lady next door ; in fact things
became so unpleasant, that after recording them
my readers will understand how impossible things
had become.
One day the old nurse, Crockett, who was
always an Ailsa " detective," came and told me
my grandmother wished to see and speak with me,
40
Windsor Castle
that she was ill in bed, and I was to come with
Crockett to her ladyship at once. I was always
terrified at my grandmother, but, of course, I went.
When I got into her room I found her in a large four-
post bed exactly opposite a picture of a kind-looking
gentleman. My grandmother was an old woman
with stern features, grey-white hair, and, at that
moment, dark angry eyes. She was wearing a
close white mob-cap, and called out in a very strong
Scotch accent, *' Mina, come here."
Thereupon I was hoisted up on the bed by an
alarmed-looking Abigail, and made to sit close to
the angry-looking pale old lady.
" Where's ye mother ^ " she said.
" Gone to London," I said, " so beautifully
dressed. She looked like a large silver dove."
My grandmother laughed a laugh bad to hear,
caught hold of my arm, and whispered in broad
Scotch accents, which I cannot write :
" I tell ye she's gone to be married, and
didna tell ye ! Look there," she went on, point-
ing to the picture opposite her bed, " there's ye
father, and he's dead, poor fellow, and I want
ye to promise me, ye'll never love this — new
man, and never call him ' Father.' "
+1
My Memories
I was so terrified at my grandmother's gestures
that I think I would have promised her anything
and everything if only she would let me go. I
promised, and she let me go. I am sure, poor old
lady, that she felt utterly miserable. But I couldn't
then understand.
This incident, however, will show that to go on
living at Railshead, next to indignant old Lady
Ailsa, was an impossibility, so my mother naturally
turned for help to her father. The good King
gave her apartments in Kensington Palace, of
which she was called " the State housekeeper."
This change of domicile was absolutely neces-
sary, for by the Scotch law of those days my
brother (who was heir to Dun House, Lady
Ailsa's property in Scotland) could be lawfully
taken away from his stepfather. He actually was.
One day, to my mother's great distress, the boy
disappeared, and she was informed he had been
sent to a school by his grandparents. In an
agony she asked King William what was to be
done ?
" Make no fuss," said the old King, " and
kidnap the boy back."
And this was exactly what happened later. The
42
Windsor Castle
boy came to his mother for the holidays and was
" kidnapped back."
#
One morning when I was about seven years ot
age, I was awakened by the entrance of my dear
mother. It was very early in the morning, and
yet I saw that she was fully dressed, as though she
had just returned from a journey, and she was
crying. She called in the old nurse and said
something hastily to her, at the same time desiring
her to pull down all the blinds.
I sprang up in my bed. " Mother," I cried,
•* is anything the matter ? "
She came then to me, poor dear, threw herself
on my bed, and exclaimed, sobbing :
*' Mina ! the King is dead. We shall never see
his kind face again."
A shock went through me, and, young as I was,
I conjured up before me that dear face, the white
hair, the indescribable scent of rose-water which
always pervaded the room wherever he was, and
the kindly voice.
" Oh mama ! " I said, '* not dead ! Then who
will take care of us — of England — now ^ "
43
My Memories
"There is a young Queen now," sobbed my
poor mother.
" 1 don't like her ! " I said passionately, bursting
into tears ; " she shan't be my queen ! " for I had
dearly loved the Sailor King.
*' Hush ! " said my poor weeping mother, " you
must not say that, and you must now repeat the
words I say, after me. ' God save the Queen!' "
Seeing my dear mother's serious face, and hearing
the word " God," I concluded it was a prayer (as,
indeed, it is, if people would only remember the
fact), so putting my hands reverently together, I
repeated the words solemnly. This is all I re-
member of the Queen's accession.
44
IV
GIRLHOOD AT KENSINGTON PALACE
1837— 1846
A change came o'er the spirit ot my dream.
I
I REMEMBER wclI ouF arrival at Kensington Palace,
and the journey from our old home. Of course in
those days, there being no railroads, the drive from
Railshead to Kensington was quite an undertaking,
and a most interesting experience it was to me, for
my mother, by the marriage of one of her sisters,
was intimate with " the great " Lord Holland, and
he, hearing of the prospective change of our home,
kindly begged my mother to break the journey
by stopping for luncheon and a short rest at beau-
tiful Holland House. That visit to Holland House
made a lasting impression upon me, young as I
was. The lovely rooms and the pictures, the
45
My Memories
beauteous gardens and park, and last, but I am
afraid not least, the delicious cold luncheon ! To
this day I never taste cold turkey and salad
without their conjuring up in my mind's eye Hol-
land House dining-room, full of brilliant silver and
glass, the smart footmen, and, most of all, a most
charming-looking lady with a very pale face — the
palest face I think I ever saw, and with such a
heavenly, sweet smile. She sat in a large arm-
chair, and her occupation seemed to me, even
young as I was, strange in a dining-room.
She was not sitting at the dining-room table
with every one else, but in a corner of the room. A
maid was kneeling by her, bathing the pale, sweet,
smiling lady's feet — the loveliest white feet — in a
large china foot-tub ! This lady was the famous
Lady Holland, and I heard it said that these, to
outsiders, peculiar ablutions invariably took place
in the dining-room of Holland House during
luncheon, whether there were visitors or not ! I
never forgot it.
After this we proceeded on our journey to our
new home.
*
The first real event I remember at Kensington
46
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
was some time after — the marriage of our " little
Queen " Victoria, as she was fondly called for
many years, for she was very young and childlike
in appearance, very short, and very innocent-
looking.
This event of course created the greatest
excitement in Kensington — more so than anywhere
almost — for the young Queen had been born in
the palace there, had lived there for years, and the
Kensingtonians dearly loved her. The excitement,
therefore, was past words, and when we children
were told that on one especial day the young
Queen, with a beautiful bridegroom, would pass
along the High Street on their way to a lovely
castle, where the honeymoon would be spent,
to our childish minds it all seemed like a fairy
tale. A young Queen, a beautiful bride-
groom, an escort of soldiers on horseback, a
magnificent castle — and a honeymoon ! What this
said "honeymoon" was, we did not wait to
inquire. We only knew it sounded sweet, bright
and generally delicious. We were further told
we were to go to a lady's house in the High
Street to see the procession, to wave flags and
handkerchiefs as the Queen and the beautiful
47
My Memories
young Prince and the honeymoon (?) went by.
We were to cheer and make as much noise as ever
we liked — or could (and we liked and could a
great deal !) ; and so we started in high glee, and
conscientiously fulfilled the noisy part of the
bargain.
I can now see the Queen's sweet and happy face,
white roses encircling the inside, as was the fashion
then, of her bride-bonnet. There is an old print
now which always reminds me, whenever I come
across it, of her happy face that day. Well, like
everything else, the vision passed. We now
prepared to return home thoroughly tired out
from the excitement of our emotions ; being
also rather quarrelsomely disposed from a painful
uncertainty which tortured us as to which of us
children had been especially singled out by her
Majesty, the bride, and honoured by her particular
notice. In fact, the arguments became so hot and
so uncivil — ("I tell you she did nod atmef" " She
didn't^ she smiled at me ! " " She didn't," &c. &c.)
— that, had a most curious and untoward accident
not distracted our attention, blows must have
ensued. But in this case it proved the truth of
the saying that, " It is an ill wind that blows no
48
vi^'-'-_v<^i:V
m^"^.
/
;:s^•v^
■ !^"
1
'->■ b S -<^^^^^^^K'
IP
. ^:Mi:^^
»
"Si
'55
n
t/'<''
i^' 'Ii
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
one any good," and really, in a small way, what I
am about to relate proves the truth of this saying.
We were on the point of scratching each other's eyes
out (metaphorically, I hope) when a certain lady,
unfortunately fat and unwieldy, was seized with
a passionate wish to get near the Queen's carriage,
and if possible obtain a smile from the royal
bride. This lady lived in Kensington Palace with
two maiden sisters-in-law, of the name of Wynyard,
who had been attached to Queen Charlotte's house-
hold. Getting into the High Street in front
of the house, in the balcony of which we children
were standing shouting and waving flags, Mrs.
Wynyard foolishly mixed with the crowd, and
directly after the royal carriage had passed she
was knocked down by a frightened horse and her
leg was broken. Mercifully, just at that moment
an old-fashioned dust-cart was seen standing round
a corner, and the poor lady was lifted up and
placed in a sitting posture within it, and one of her
servants, passing by, saw his mistress driven back
to her sister-in-law's rooms in the palace — a mode
of locomotion more comfortable than dignified.
Poor lady ! She was lame for years after ; indeed, I
know not whether she was ever again anything else.
49 D
My Memories
II
We lived many years in Kensington Palace. In
fact, it was our home until I and my sister were
" wedded and awa," and as I think over the many
curious little circumstances that took place during
those years, I feel as though I could write volumes.
I can hear my kind friends say, " Pray don't," so
I will try not to bore them with the short stories I
have to tell — at least I will do my best to prevent
their wearying overmuch.
Kensington Gardens bring back many memories ;
but how altered they are to-day ! There used to
be curious little summer-houses, painted white,
dotted all about the walks, and one enormously tall
one, which looked towards the palace, called
" Queen Anne's summer-house." The little ones no
longer exist ! I remember also that generally every
day, when out walking with our governess, we
used to see a funny little wizened old man, very
oddly dressed, and invariably wearing a bright red
scarf tied round his throat. He seemed never to
tire running round and round one particular tree,
muttering as he ran, and gazing up at the top
boughs. We used to see him there so constantly
50
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
that the strange thing was when he was not there.
I once heard our governess ask a nursery-maid
who he was ? and she answered, in her doubtful
English, " Oh him ! poor old chap ! He's a gentle-
man born, he is, and he went mad with love for
' the little Queen' — Victoria — "and if you listen
to his words, he says constantly, as he looks up
at the boughs, ' Too high ! too high for me ! ' "
Not long after I heard this story the poor old
gentleman disappeared. Probably he had got
'* higher " still ! They said he was harmless, and
that the red kerchief was always a safety-mark for
his keepers.
# # * * *
Kensington, of course, is full of memories of
Queen Victoria. I was told a funny little story
about the Queen when she was princess and quite
a young girl. She had a clergyman of the name of
Dr. Davys as a tutor, and both the princess and
the Duchess of Kent were very fond of him. He
also had a charming daughter. I knew both
father and daughter, and later on the father became
Bishop of Peterborough. The little Princess used
often to come into the room where Miss Davys
wrote her own private letters, and one day, when
51
My Memories
she was deeply interested in a letter she was
writing, the Princess came behind ['her. Miss
Davys did not know any one was there, and being
a little bothered with her letter — not knowing
what to write next — she began to swing her
eyeglass. She was very short-sighted, and wore
the glass on a long chain. So she kept swinging
the glass, until suddenly she heard a scream behind
her, and received a ringing box on the ear. Much
hurt, as well as surprised, she turned and saw the
Princess behind her holding her handkerchief up
to her eye, while the lady nearly wept from the
stinging blow on her face.
Miss Davys was very angry, for she felt that
what she had been guilty of was accidental, while
the Princess' blow had been given with all her
might. So, with a deep curtsey, she ran to her
room, put on her bonnet, and went and complained
to her father. He very properly insisted on an
ample apology, which Princess Victoria tendered,
and matters were made straight again.
*
When I was a child at Kensington, I remember
being sent for, and told to come and see " the
two Prince Georges." 1 went into the drawing-
52
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
room and found my mother sitting with two
young men, who were very courteous and civil.
One was bigger and more jolly-looking than the
other, who was very handsome, tall, and pale.
After they were gone I was told that I had been
presented to Prince George of Cambridge (the
present Duke) and Prince George of Hanover
(the eldest son of King Ernest of Hanover, Duke
of Cumberland ; in fact, the Crown Prince of
Hanover, afterwards George V.). I never forgot
the latter's pale, beautiful face. He was almost
blind then, and became quite blind later, from
the effects, we were told, of an accident with a
bunch of keys, which flew up into his eyes as he
was playing with them, and he never saw properly
again. Of course I am only repeating what I was
told. The two young Princes were on a visit to
their uncle, the Duke of Sussex, who had apart-
ments in Kensington Palace, the rooms now
occupied by Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll.
*****
At Kensington we had a fat little old Swiss
governess, called Mademoiselle de Saules. She
was very severe when anything put her out ; and
she was, in appearance, of a style that one rarely,
S3
My Memories
if ever, sees in an Englishwoman. She was very
short (when I was twelve years of age I was nearly
as tall, if not quite, as she was) ; she had little,
short, fat legs, and feet like small canoes, a very
round head, very round black lips ; in short, she
was round everywhere ! One day as we were
going out for our daily walk in Kensington Gar-
dens, as v/e were passing under the Clock arch-
way, we met a tall, fine-looking old gentleman,
and we knew he must be somebody as the sentry pre-
sented arms. He was very like the Duke of Sussex,
whom I knew well, and to our surprise he stopped
us. He looked in an amused way at mademoiselle,
and asked us who we were ? Mademoiselle
curtsied till she almost disappeared, and said we
were the Kennedy-Erskine children. Looking
full of fun at the agitated governess, he answered,
" What ! toutes les 'ducks ? ' " meaning, I suppose,
tons les deux, but he clearly made it self-evident
that he meant to mix up the little foreign duck as
well, and she was mightily pleased. He sent his
love to my mother. Mademoiselle was more than
ever delighted when I told her it must be the
Duke of Cambridge, who, we knew, was on a visit
to his brother, the Duke of Sussex. He was the
54
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
youngest son of George III. and father of the
present duke.
* * 0 * *
Kensington recalls to me some anecdotes of my
uncle, Lord Augustus FitzClarence, who often
used to visit us there. He was a clergyman and a
most extraordinary character. He did not marry
till late in life, and then he married a daughter of
Lord Henry Gordon, many years younger than
himself, and a very beautiful woman. Uncle
Augustus used to wear " leggings," I think they
are called, like a bishop, for he had beautifully
formed legs, and was very proud of them. He
also shaved his head, all except a band round the
base of his head. He was also very short-sighted
and wore spectacles, a top hat, and a broad band
of crape round it. I don't suppose my readers
ever knew that such an individual existed, but
he £/i£^, and did the most extraordinary and un-
clerical things. King William, his father, gave
him a lovely little living at Mapledurham, where
he always lived after his marriage. He used
often, before his marriage, to ride out to Ken-
sington to see us ; and one day as he trotted
into the court-yard his horse slipped up and
55
My Memories
fell. Mercifully my uncle was enabled to throw
himself off the horse, and disengage himself from
the stirrups. The horse lay prone on the flag-
stones. My uncle Adolphus was so surprised at
the accident, and still more at his safety (for it was
an awkward fall), that to our astonishment (for we
children were, of course, looking out of the
window), and to the intense amazement of the
sentry, who apparently did not know whether to
present arms, or to fire, or to take my uncle in
charge as a madman, this extraordinary indi-
vidual was so delighted from his immunity from
harm — and broken limbs — that as soon as he was
properly free from his horse, he threw himself
into an attitude like a danseuse, and capered
round the court-yard, delighted to find himself
unhurt. The horse seemed not a whit surprised,
but got up, shook himself, and trotted up to his
master, then stood quietly while my uncle tied
him up to the palace railings.
Another time this singular uncle of mine went
on a journey by rail with a great friend of his,
Mr. A. M. I think they were going to my uncle's
living at Mapledurham, and he and his friend,
who wanted a private conversation, were greatly
56
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
bothered at the presence in the carriage of an
old lady and her maid, and they were determined,
if possible, to get the old lady to go into another
carriage. So at a sign from my uncle to his
friend Mr. A. M,, they agreed to act the parts of
an idiotic individual being taken by his keeper
to his home. My uncle made odd noises, talked
incoherently to the lady, danced about in the
carriage, and did all he knew to intimidate her.
But she took not the slightest notice. After
having paused at one or two stations, the train
stopped at the old lady's destination, and she and
her maid got up to go. But before she left the
carriage she turned to my uncle and said calmly,
" Lord Augustus FitzClarence, you thought to
alarm me, in a most unmanly, ungentlemanlike
way, and get rid of my presence ; but I knew you
and your silly ways, and was determined to
let you know that you had reckoned this time
without your host. You have only shown your-
self a most unworthy son of the most clever
and delightful comic actress — whom I knew and
respected."
I know not what my uncle's answer may have
been. I only know he used to tell the story
57
My Memories
against himself, for he had loved and mourned his
mother.
One more story about him.
" A day came along," as our American cousins
say, when the great Marshal Soult came to
England. Marshal Soult was born in 1769, the
same year which gave birth to Arthur Wellington
and Napoleon Bonaparte. He served in the army
in 1 794 and 1795. He took part in the campaign
of Germany till 1799, when he followed Massena
into Switzerland and Genoa. In the latter place
he was wounded and taken prisoner. After the
battle of Marengo he was set at liberty and raised
to the command of Piedmont, and returned to
France at the Peace of Amiens in 1802. The
Empire created Soult Marshal of France in 1 804,
and he held the command of the Fourth Corps at
Austerlitz. In all German battles he took a pro-
minent part, and in 1808 he entered Spain, and
falling on Sir J. Moore's division, caused the
Corunna defeat ; but he was repulsed with loss
when the English turned to bay below the walls.
By the fine old fellow's orders, however, the
French soldiers fired minute guns over the grave
of Sir John Moore, and he caused a record of
58
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
the brave English general's death to be carved
on a rock near the spot on which his respected
enemy fell. Soult served as quartermaster-general
at Waterloo, and then took refuge at Malzieu with
his former aide-de-camp. For a while he lived
with his family at St. Amand and rested. After-
wards Charles X. treated him with much favour,
creating him a peer of France.
In 1838, on the coronation of Queen Victoria,
Soult was nominated ambassador extraordinary to
represent France at the ceremonial. He was
greatly feted by the Duke of Wellington, who
thought much of him. My last story of my
Uncle Augustus took place at the time of Marshal
Soult's visit.
The Duke of Sussex gave a great fete at Ken-
sington Palace in his honour. Wonderful pre-
parations had been made outside the palace as well
as in, in the way of decorations. I was then eight
years of age and deeply interested in what was
going forward ; and, needless to say, in constant
danger of fallinpj head-foremost on to the ground
from the window ; and I am not sure that I did
not hope I might have the good luck of falling
into Marshal Soult's or the Duke of Wellington's
59
My Memories
arms ! This event, however, did not take place ;
but in the midst of all the excitement a lady walked
into my mother's apartments — one whom my
mother did not know — bringing with her a baby
in a nurse's arms, and a bumptious little boy, who
walked up and said :
" 1 am Douglas Parkyns ! "
The lady, seeing luncheon prepared for other
and invited guests — for my mother had a little
party for the occasion — now apologised and told
her story. She said, amid much agitation, that she
had been insulted by " a gentleman," and had run
in to my mother for protection. At the moment
when Marshal Soult and the Duke of Wellington
were arriving, a "most extraordinary man," who had
been standing and staring at her for some time —
she was good-looking, but of a cockney type —
suddenly caught up Douglas (the bumptious boy),
and handed him over to an officer, whom he seemed
to know ; then, seizing the nurse and the baby,
he put them by the side of another officer, and,
turning to the astonished mother, said :
" And now / can talk to you I "
The lady's pronunciation was most cockney
with her " ows " and " O Lors ! "
60
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
" Was he a gentleman ? " my mother asked.
*' O Lor ! he looked like a bishop ! "
Then my mother's heart failed her, and she
guessed. In another moment the door of the
room burst open.
" Oh! " exclaimed Mrs. Parkyns, " if here isn't
the very man !"
My mother came forward directly and said :
" This is my brother, Mrs. Parkyns. I am
sure he meant no rudeness ; but he loves children,
and wanted them to see the horses and soldiers,"
So Mrs. Parkyns, now all smiles, bowed and
sat down, had a good luncheon, and became good
friends with my erratic uncle. The two probably
never met again ; at least I never heard of their
doing so.
Ill
Another memory comes to me of Kensington, and
one which proves, not, I fear, for the first time, that
what are considered " days of discretion " often
turn out to be " days of indiscretion ! " I and
my sister were undoubtedly music-mad. We not
only loved music, but we used to conceive ro-
mantic admirations for the musicians. Mercifully,
6i
My Memories
female musicians were our fancy, and not the male
ones. I and my sister had the most devoted and
wild engouement for a certain famous lady singer,
whose contralto voice was better than anything I
heard at that time — or since. Her name was
Marietta Alboni. Well, there would have been no
harm and little folly in this admiration had it not
been for the deceit we practised on my mother, who
was the most trusting of women, and had it not
been for my Italian singing-master, who certainly
betrayed the confidence reposed in him, showing a
lack of honour and good faith which, had we girls
been a few years older, might have had troublesome
results. I chanced, even in those days, young as I
was, to be, in my humble way, a singer and even a
composer. Of course this was thought a great
deal of in a girl of fifteen. At that age, too, we
were no longer children, watched by nurses and
nursery-maids, but we had governesses, who were
not as well educated as those of to-day. They did
not comprehend French or Italian, whereas we
girls were quick at languages, both from having
teachers and also because we had been a good deal
abroad. The upshot was, that our Italian sing-
ing-master, who was acquainted with the charming
62
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
singer Alboni, had repeated to her the expressions
of our wild admiration for her, and even in the
presence of our governess messages in Italian had
passed between us and the diva^ so that from one
step to another our silly infatuation grew and grew
till our master very wrongly offered to effect a
meeting between us and Madame Alboni some day
in Kensington Gardens, where it might be managed
withoutfear of discovery. So one summer afternoon,
at about 5.30 p.m., I and my sister sallied forth,
timid, but very happy, to an unfrequented part
of the gardens at the back of the palace, and there
we stood and waited. I think during that waiting
our hearts rather failed us, and we became rather
alarmed at what we were doing ; but at last our
diva appeared, and oh ! when she appeared, how
disillusioned at once we became. She was fat and
clumsy, and came waddling up, accompanied by a
dreadful-looking foreign man, who, after settling
her on a seat, went and ensconced himself on another
hard by, to our great annoyance, for it was evident
he was watching us vigilantly.
We felt, however, we had got into the scrape
and must go through with it. So tremblingly we
approached the lady, and we were by no means
63
My Memories
pleased by our reception. She began by question-
ing us very closely about ourselves, our mother,
and our relations in general, and when, in the
course of conversation, I told her quite naturally
that our mother was '* State housekeeper of Ken-
sington Palace," the murder was out, and she let
us see at once that as we were the daughters of " a
housekeeper " she supposed we were not ladies !
So she very soon ended the interview and left
Kensington Gardens, and we never had any further
conversation with her. But oh ! the beauty of her
voice ! Years afterwards I heard her sing in Paris
— that was the last time ; " and the voice in my
' dreaming ear ' then melted away " for ever.
*
About this time (I cannot remember dates)
my stepfather. Lord Frederick Gordon, insisted
on our having a little old dancing-master of the
name of Jenkins, It was absurd, for Jenkins was
eighty years of age. But he was as active as a
young man. He had taught all my stepfather's
family to dance, and was a thin, upright, wiry old
man with grey hair ; and when I or my sister were
extra stupid at any step, it was wonderful to see
him dancing about to show us how it ought to be
64
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
done, playing his fiddle all the time. I don't know
why, but I did not like him. I thought it incon-
gruous and undignified for an old man to caper
and kick about. The fact of its being, perhaps, a
hard and sad necessity never entered my youthful
mind.
We used to take our dancing-lessons in the
dining-room at Kensington, where there was an old
oak sideboard with a large mirror. One day, in
the excitement of the dance, I forgot my good
manners, and was a very naughty little girl. While
the old dancing-master was teaching me the intri-
cacies of the minuet he turned his back on me,
and performed a reverence, most conscientiously,
in order to teach me better. I made the reverence
also, but, forgetting the mirror, I accompanied it by
a fearful grimace, but, before it was done, to my
horror I caught the old man's eye looking at me
in the mirror. I thought I should have fainted.
He turned quickly round and said to me, " Young
lady, I am a very old man now ; but I can
safely say I never saw so hideous, so repulsive, a
face as yours. However, I will forgive it from
my heart if you will do me the pleasure of perpe-
trating it over again ! " And there I was trying
65 s
My Memories
to make the same face, forgetting which it was, he
going on repeating, " No, not that one ! try
another ! " till I nearly died of shame. It taught
me a lesson : to be considerate of the feelings of
others.
My stepfather told me that the old dancing-
master had seen and spoken to Marie Antoinette.
If I had known that before, I should have shown
him greater respect, for I had a deep feeling of
reverence for the poor Queen. My stepfather's
father, the old Lord Huntley, once told me that
he had danced with Marie Antoinette, which inter-
ested me intensely. She was the heroine of my
youth, and even to-day she holds her place in my
heart as the most beautiful and unfortunate of
Queens.
IV
Every one who is acquainted with Kensington
Palace knows that there are two courts belonging
to it — the outer and the inner court ; also that
there are sentries on duty in the outer court all
day and all night long ; that they are relieved
every two hours only, unless the sentries make a
66
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
signal intimating that they require reUef for some
unforeseen reason. The sentries in the inner
court used only to be on duty at night, for twelve
hours, beginning at eight o'clock p.m., they being
subject to the same rule — signalling should they
require relief.
One day my mother, who held a responsible
position in the palace, and was therefore told all
that passed, was much astonished by being in-
formed that, for the future, there would be no night
sentries in the inner court. She was naturally
surprised, and asked the reason of the change }
Whereupon she was told the following strange
story :
A night or two before, the sentry had been
placed as usual in the inner court, and at about
1.30 P.M. a signal was perceived coming from
him, from which it was inferred that for some
reason he required aid. A relieving sergeant and
two sentries were despatched at once, and on their
arrival the soldier on duty was found on the
ground speechless — in a fit. When he recovered,
he stated that as one o'clock struck he saw a man's
figure approaching along the dimly-lit passage,
which was his (the sentry's) beat. The " figure,"
67
My Memories
the soldier said, was strangely dressed, and pre-
sented such an extraordinary appearance that he
was too alarmed to notice anything very definite
as to Its dress. All he really noticed was that
the stranger never answered his challenge ; indeed,
he seemed to take no notice of it, or of him, but
glided noiselessly by. As soon as the figure had
disappeared the soldier fell down in a dead faint.
When questioned he had no hesitation in saying
he had come across something supernatural, and
was so alarmed that he declared he " had rather
go through anything in the world than stay in
that passage any longer alone."
Whether another sentry was made to take that
one's place that same night or not I never heard,
but we did hear that the poor man was unmercifully
"chaffed" and " ballyragged " by his comrades the
next morning. One young soldier, with much
bravado, begged that he might be placed on night
duty as sentry in the inner court, and added that
no *' figure," be it that of man or devil, should
pass him without giving him the watchword ; that
he would challenge the comer, and if he did not
answer him satisfactorily he would either fire on
him or pin him to the wall with his bayonet.
68
Girlhood at Kensington Palace
Night arrived, and the young soldier was placed
in the inner court. No signs of distress issued
thence ; but when the time came for him to be
relieved, he, too, was found in a fit on the ground
with his bayonet broken 1 As soon as he came to
himself he volunteered the following statement :
Everything went on as usual on the beat till
one o'clock struck ; then he saw a figure coming
towards him from the further end of the passage.
He waited till the figure came within about twenty
yards of him, so that he was able to notice that the
stranger's dress was unlike anything he had ever
seen — long and loose. The sentry challenged the
intruder, but got no answer, the figure still slowly
advancing. The soldier could not see the stranger's
face, and when he was quite close he challenged
him loudly, adding : " If you don't give me the
pass-word, I fire ! " The figure gave no answer,
but continued slowly advancing as though it heard
nothing. It now made as though it would pass the
indignant sentry, and it did pass him ! for the
soldier thrust at it with his bayonet, but it glided
calmly by, and the bayonet passed through it into
the wall^ making a deep mark and shivering to
splinters I
69
My Memories
I tell the story as it was told to my mother,
who saw the mark on the wall.
This second incident caused the greatest excite-
ment among the guard, and the soldiers positively
refused to do sentry duty again in the inner court.
Lord Cardigan was sent for, as being a strict
officer whom few men dared to gainsay or con-
tradict in military matters. He came and dined
with my mother the same day the matter was
being investigated, but he would say nothing —
was evidently not to be " pumped."
We heard afterwards, however, in spite of
Lord Cardigan's overbearing disposition, and his
well-known influence with soldiers, high and low,
that he found himself quite unable to alter the
animus he found amongst them. Certainly I
can vouch for it that no sentries were ever after-
wards— at all events during the time that / was
living at Kensington — placed in the inner court of
the Palace. Things may be changed now.
The rumour was that the apparition was that
of George II., who died suddenly at Kensington
Palace, October 25, 1760, under circumstances that
could not be made public in detail.
70
A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE
Tout comprendre — c'est tout pardonner.
Before my childhood had hardly passed a singular
and painful experience visited our home at Ken-
sington. There was a beautiful lady, whose name
I need not give, whom my mother had been
intimate with for years ; in fact, she had belonged
to the Court, and was much disliked by one half
of it, but loved by the other. My dear mother
always loved her, and stuck to her " through thick
and thin " as long as she could. This lady was
one of the most beautiful women I ever saw, and
she made a great marriage, marrying a rich old
peer with a lovely place. My stepfather disliked
her excessively, and it was much against his will
that whenever he went on business to Scotland
(which he had to do for some weeks every year),
71
My Memories
my mother insisted on having her friend to stay
with her at Kensington.
The visit of which I am about to speak turned
out to be a most disastrous one.
I remember that one day before luncheon I was
sitting with my mother in the drawing-room
after lessons when the post came in, and some-
thing occurred which I then hardly understood,
for I was only about twelve years of age. A
letter was brought in by the footman and handed
to Lady , upon which she laughed, and said
to my mother :
'*Look here, Ta !" (a pet name). " Does your
husband trust you as mine does me ? " Then she
said to me, "Hand this to your mother, Mina."
I did so, and my mother exclaimed :
" A blank cheque ! Oh Emily, take care
of it 1 "
Lady — — laughed again, and put it in a bag by
her side.
My mother used to go out driving every after-
noon with Lady , whose passion seemed to be
to go to the Soho Bazaar (which I believe does not
exist now) and buy pretty little birds of all kinds
and colours, whatever the expense, and bring them
72
A Curious Experience
home in small cages and take them up to her bed-
room. One day the housemaid, who had been
twenty years with us, came and complained to my
mother that she could not keep Lady 's room
clean, with all the birds. My mother was angry,
for she felt it very awkward to speak of such a
thing to a visitor, and it ended by the housemaid
saying that if Lady stayed she wouldn't !
My mother was greatly annoyed, but thinking
that her visitor would not stay much longer, she left
matters as they were ; until one evening she was
thoroughly bewildered and bouhers^e. We had a
large dinner-party, and as most of our family were
coming, all of them being fond of Lady , we
children, as a great treat, were allowed to come in
after dinner. The party consisted of Lord and
Lady Erroll, my mother's eldest sister. Lady Mary
and General Fox, Lord Augustus FitzClarence,
and a few others. The dinner went off most
satisfactorily, but unfortunately after dinner Lady
Mary Fox, who, as well as my mother, had a great
love of curios, called out to my mother (I remember
quite well hearing her say it) :
" Ta, you used to have some lovely silver and
enamel boxes and miniatures. Where are they ? "
73
My Memories
My mother answered : *' They are all in those
glass cases you are looking at."
** But I can't find them," answered my aunt.
My mother said, " Oh ! I'll get them," and she
went to the cases in question, but the things were
nowhere to be seen. Much perturbed, my
mother searched and searched.
At last she sent for the trusty but hostile
housemaid, Jane, who came in looking daggers.
" Where are you going to, Emily .'* " called my
mother to Lady , who was hastily leaving the
room.
" I am not very well, Ta, dear."
" My lady, / know where the boxes are," said
Jane loudly.
My mother, seeing something disagreeable was on
the tapis^ said to the housemaid :
'*Come into my room." Then and there
Lady came to my mother, and before seeing
Jane, said :
'*Ta, I know where they are."
" I should think you did," said Jane furiously,
" for you it was who stole them ! "
*' No ! It was you who stole them, and put
them into my bag — in my room," said Lady .
74
A Curious Experience
Then a most vulgar scrimmage took place. But
Jane was not to be outdone. She brought the
boxes, all cut and broken, and scarcely recognisable,
and after delivering them to my poor frightened
mother, " popped on " her bonnet.
In those days a scurrilous publication called the
Satirist^ was in vogue, coming out weekly, and the
next morning the whole story was related in full,
names and all.
" It would have ruined w^," said the maid,
" but she is well known. It will do her no harm ;
people know her already."
All my poor mother's guests hurried off and
left her in her trouble — a thing she never forgave.
She sent at once for her husband from Scotland.
Meantime Lady insisted on telling her story
to my mother, who could not, would not, listen ;
for she found all the poor little birds drowned and
laid out on newspapers in Lady 's bedroom.
Jane declared she had gone in one morning, on
hearing a curious stir in the bedroom, and found
Lady holding the poor little birds head
downwards in her jug. And the object } Ah 1
the object !
When my stepfather, Lord Frederick, came back
IS
My Memories
his one idea was to avoid a scandal, so, as Lady
had only a few days longer to stay, he said, much
against my mother's will, *' Let her stay " ; and
Lady put a bold face on it, and determined
to stay. But it presently came out that a number
of my mother's jewels had disappeared, and as Lady
was always fond of looking at them and
had the run of my mother's drawers, no one
could doubt what had become of the missing
articles. So Lord Frederick insisted upon a
lawyer being called in, upon which Lady
left the house at once, and I never saw her
again.
My mother was miserable, for she had loved the
woman, and had Lady not made an enemy
of Jane there need not have been such an
esclandre.
The lawyer made my mother promise not to
see Lady , or Lord , or any of that family
without witnesses. But one day the footman came
up to say " Lord was very anxious " to see
my mother, " and that he was "
Before he could say more the poor old husband
was on his knees by my mother's side. He im-
plored to be allowed a word with her, and he
76
A Curious Experience
brought a large dressing -box. He was weeping
bitterly, and seemed in such distress that my
mother gave in of course, and was shut up
alone with Lord . He could hardly speak
for sobbing, and said he had brought his wife's
dressing-case, and my mother was to keep
any jewels she found therein that were hers. She
told him that she would not look at them then,
that he must leave the box and the key, and that
she would write. "But," he added, "you have
also a letter of mine " (she had) " in which I confess
my wife's guilt ; will you give me back that
letter ? "
Will it be believed .? but my mother did so !
She said afterwards he was in great distress,
and, being an old man, it broke her heart to see
him cry, and she felt she never cared to see a
jewel again.
She gave him up the letter, and he instantly
threw it into the fire. He, however, left the
dressing-case. When the lawyer came and heard
what my mother had done, he nearly threw up the
case he was so angry.
^' You can't \ prove these jewels are yours,"
he said.
My Memories
But my mother knew better, for luckily they all
had cases into which they fitted, and so far she was
safe. But ever after she hated the sight of the
jewels, and I don't know that she ever wore them
again.
78
VI
QUEEN ADELAIDE AND MARL-
BOROUGH HOUSE
In my young days good Queen Adelaide (then
the Queen-dowager) lived at Marlborough House,
and my mother often used to take us children
there to see her. She was always, as I have said
elsewhere, most kind and affectionate, and we
much enjoyed going to see her. I remember
that she had a beautiful cockatoo, it was grey in
colour, mixed with deep pink, and when it became
excited it threw up a crest of pink feathers
which filled me with the greatest admiration. This
parrot had an interesting history. No one, how-
ever, not even the oldest of the old King's servants,
could tell it satisfactorily. One old man-servant
declared that the bird had been known to imitate
Queen Anne's voice exactly^ but which of these
ancient retainers could vouch for the truth of the
79
My Memories
likeness to the said royal lady's voice I am unable
to state. I only tell the tale as it was told to me.
The end of the story, however, is that when good
Queen Adelaide died the bird was given to my
mother, and lived with her for years at Kensington.
I remember that Queen Adelaide gave a garden-
party at Marlborough House, called then a
*' breakfast " for no earthly reason, for the enter-
tainment began about 3 o'clock, and went on some-
times till quite late in the evening. Queen Victoria
came on that occasion with the Prince Consort
and their eldest child, the Princess Royal, then a
sweet little person of about three years old. She
was very small, but walked with some dignity by
the side of the Queen, her mother, who, with her
peculiar grace, was bowing to the right and left as
she proceeded between a living hedge of smart
ladies and bowing gentlemen, who eagerly looked
out for a kindly recognition from the youthful
Sovereign. Suddenly the lively baby princess
either saw some face she recognised, or something
which she wished to investigate more closely, so
disengaging herself quickly from the maternal
guidance, and without giving due notice, she darted
into the midst of the delighted crowd and dis-
80
Queen Adelaide
appeared. For a moment only however, for she
was quickly caught and extricated by her royal
mother amid some perturbation.
One more circumstance I recall as regards Marl-
borough House and the kind Queen-dowager. I
and my sister were not yet " out " — had not been
presented — but we were " commanded " with our
mother to an evening party at Marlborough House
to have the honour of meeting her Majesty and
the Prince Consort, the party being organised in
order that Herr Thalberg should perform on the
pianoforte before the royal pair. I remember
that I disliked Thalberg's playing excessively. It
always gave me the idea as though he were
pummelling the poor pianoforte with his fists.
The Prince, however, was a great admirer of Thal-
berg, and I remember that, as the performer was
in the midst of one of his tours de force^ the Prince
quite unexpectedly got up from Queen Victoria's
side, and placed himself on a chair directly behind
the performer, so as the better to watch his hands
as he kept pounding away upon the defenceless
instrument — without taking any notice of his
royal admirer.
At one moment the Prince Consort seemed so
8l F
My Memories
astonished and even " flabbergasted " at the mar-
vellous execution of the performer (one might
have thought it would have been the execution of
the poor instrument also !) that he made a sign
across the room to the Queen, who rose, and to
the bewilderment, and, one would think to the
annoyance, of the whole company, placed herself
by the side of her husband.
Considering the rank of the promenading parties
and the foolish but necessary etiquette necessitated
by such a curious and unexpected manoeuvre, the
grand monae present, seated round, could do but
one thing — namely, get up also, and stand till
such time as the Queen should reseat herself.
I remember everybody said, " How sweetly,
how gracefully the Queen did it." I can see her
now, walking across the room on tip-toe, with her
finger on her lips ; and in my girlish folly I
wondered how Mr. Thalberg, who stopped
thumping the piano and bowed, liked the interrup-
tion. I comforted myself by remembering that
the poor piano had had an unexpected rest, for I
half believed instruments had feelings, and I am
not sure I don't think so now.
82
VII
DRESDEN AND MY DREAM*
1847
I had a dream which was not all a dream.
Byron.
In the year 1847, we — i.e.^ my mother, my step-
father, my younger sister and myself — all went to
Dresden, my mother being anxious that her
children should learn to speak German, a language
with which, of course, from her childhood she had
been familiar. I was then between sixteen and
seventeen and not " out "; in fact, we two girls were
travelling to learn languages and " finish our edu-
tion." I can only say here, par parenthhe, that if
any of my readers wish to learn the German
language, the Saxon German is the ugliest in
the way of accent it is possible to come across.
* The story which follows is perfectly true. — W. IVI.
8?
My Memories
However, this is, as old folks say, neither here nor
there, and people must judge for themselves.
We lived in Dresden at the Hotel de I'Europe
in the Alt Markt, an hotel which I am told exists
no longer. We occupied all the first floor, and
my sister and I slept together in a room at the back
of, or rather in the centre of the back of, the hotel,
which was built around a courtyard. An awkward
incident occurred to me one night. Just as I was
falling off to sleep I heard a sound under my pillow,
and putting my hand underneath to discover the
intruder, I drew out a lizard. Not relishing such
a companion I opened the window, intending to
throw it out. In the action, however, its tail came
off in my hand.
Our sitting-room (we were much offended if
it was called a schoolroom, although we had
masters and mistresses every day) had windows
which opened on the market-place, whence we
used to watch the male and female country
people in their costumes, who had tramped miles
and miles, carrying thither all kinds of com-
modities— and incommodities, too, one would
imagine, as one day we saw a peasant woman
carrying a dead bear in her chiffonnier basket on her
84
Dresden and my Dream
back, while her husband walked, quietly smoking,
by her side.
The articles for sale in the market were not
always very pleasing to the olfactory organs, for
sauerkraut^ in dirty pails, and roe-deer fleish were
there ; mercifully, both articles were very popular
among the peasants and were soon sold out.
One night I had a dream. I did not remember
the next morning, nor could I ever remember
afterwards what I dreamt. I could only bring to
mind vividly a mans face^ and, do what I would,
I could not forget it !
When I rose from my bed in the morning, my
sister (we were most tenderly attached) remarked
that I looked very pale, and asked, was I ill } 1
answered " No, but I have had a bad dream."
" What did you dream about .'' " she asked.
" I don't know, but I can only remember a
man's face."
*' What was it like to frighten you so ? "
" Well, it was a man's face, a nasty, wicked,
malicious face."
*' But bless me, who was it like .? Come, tell
me, darling ; and what did you dream about
it .? "
85
My Memories
" I can't recollect," I answered, and I began to
cry.
*' Oh," quoth my sister impatiently, " what a
dull, stupid, uninteresting dream."
Nothing more was said then, and the day's
avocations put the evil face out of my head for
the time. But that night, and two or three other
nights, I dreamt again and again of the man's
face, and told my sister so.
* # # # *
I always remember with delight our drive
through the town of Prague, some weeks after
leaving Dresden.
The sun was setting scarlet over the old bridge,
and the still older river Elbe, and the sight was
*' beautiful exceedingly."
Our sudden and unexpected appearance at the
moment, in an open and very foreign-looking
carriage, with my mother, who was a very lovely
woman, and my pretty sister inside, my step-
father and myself on the box-seat, and the post-
boys— one boy to three horses — vigorously blow-
ing their horns, Ferdinand and Louise, our courier
and maid, in the fourgon bringing up the rear,
created quite a commotion in the town. The
86
Dresden and my Dream
inhabitants of Prague seemed as amused at our
appearance as we were at theirs.
Our next stay was at Salzburg, and there we
enjoyed the delightful experience of going down a
salt mine.
It was not an everyday amusement. My sister
and I were young, and had, luckily, no sense of
bodily fear, so we did not shudder at the sight ot
a broad balustrade which seemed to shelve down
into black depths below, especially as we had a
touch of love of the romantic. We were delivered
over to the tender care of two very good-looking
young miners, who wrapped us up carefully in
two very loose, large garments, and made us lie
flat on our backs on the balustrade. They then
placed themselves in front, also in a lying posture,
and we slid down at a terrific pace.
After some moments of pleasurable terror we
suddenly arrived, with a bump, into the depths of
the earth. But oh ! the surprise. It was not
dark and black, as we expected, but we found our-
selves in the centre, apparently, of a lovely hall,
illuminated with every conceivable colour. I
never saw such a sight before or since. I know
not why, but we were not allowed to stay
87
My Memories
long, and were soon hurried away ; perhaps be-
cause our parents had not come with us, they, I
suppose, having dreaded the means of locomotion.
The whole thing was like a beautiful dream, and
with regret we bade our young miners farewell.
Both my sister and myself would have loved to
linger longer at beautiful Salzburg, and to have
explored more thoroughly the salt mines and other
sights. But we were told that we must proceed
on our journey, and get to Italy as soon as pos-
sible. It was settled we were to go by the Stelvio
Pass. Oh, the lovely Stelvio ! One positively
hates the railways when one thinks what they
have lost of beauty and charm. There were few,
if any, railroads in those days, so we travelled in
our own carriage, accompanied by zfourgon for the
luggage, in which vehicle our servants were in-
stalled in great comfort. We crossed the beauti-
ful Stelvio in perfect weather. I shall never forget
the excitement of the whole party when one of the
postilHons turned round and shouted to us, " Ecco
la bella Italia," pointing with his horn to a twisted
green path. It was our first glimpse of that
classic land. I think he was as excited as I was,
when he saw me scramble from the box-seat into the
88
Dresden and my Dream
carriage, and promptly get out my guitar, while my
mother got out hers, and we essayed to express our
joy in music, which was, however, somewhat marred
by an accompaniment of the postillion's horn.
We passed several lovely spots which I can't
remember now except their names, Meran, Botzen,
and Brixen. . . . We stayed a month at Florence,
and I was not happy there. I was ill, and I think
I had got tired of being always " on the go."
Florence, of course, is beautiful, but I am a
thorough John Bull, and I got tired of the never-
changing blue sky. I longed for an English
" grey day," but never to see a single cloud —
not even the flowers could compensate for the
loss.
One day Lord Frederick, who became rather
provoked with me for this reason and determined I
should have something to grumble about, played a
practical joke upon me — which did me no good.
Putting on his hat one morning, and looking back
as he left the room, he desired me to order luncheon,
saying that the hotel c^efw3.s famous for his fricassee
de poulet^ and that I was to order one. I did so,
and when the luncheon arrived and my stepfather
returned we began the meal. I confess I did not
89
My Memories
care much for the fricassee, but to please my
stepfather I partook of it. If he had left the
matter afterwards as it was I should probably
have remained innocent of the trick, and perhaps
not have suffered as much as I undoubtedly did
after ! But to my unspeakable horror, as the
table was cleared and we were alone, my step-
father calmly asked me "How I liked the chicken?"
and then cruelly told me I had been eating a
fricassee of frog !
Really, without affectation, I was quite ill and
in my bed for hours, living for days afterwards on
figs and melons. I don't think I have ever been
able to look a chicken in the face since ; certainly
not as en fricassee. And also, foolishly no doubt,
I took a disgust for Florence.
After some difficulties and disputations it was
settled that we were to go to Naples by sea, via
Leghorn and Civita Vecchia. Rome was tabooed,
alas and alas ! for I am an old woman now and
have never seen Rome and never shall, and all in
consequence of the Scotch obstinacy of an obstinate
Scotchman, who, however, thought he was doing
his duties to his "girlies." He had a sort of
superstitious feeling that if once we got within
90
Dresden and my Dream
hail of the Pope and his cardinals, we should cer-
tainly, one of us girls and perhaps both^ be left
behind as nuns, or at all events as Sisters of Mercy,
or else marry Italians. I think the poor old man
thought that even the Pope himself would not be
safe from two pretty English girls' fascinations,
especially as we had had a sort of warning in my
dream of the man's face. Anyhow, to Rome he
would not go, and so on to Naples we went.
The sea journey thither from Leghorn was not
very pleasant, for we had a terribly rough passage,
my mother, my sister and myself being quite pros-
trate from mal de mer. Ferdinand, our French
courier, not being of a very courageous nature, was
too terrified at the stormy ocean to be affected in any
other way, and also another seeming danger
threatened him during this voyage, which I will
narrate. Travelling in the same vessel with us we
observed a curiously morose-looking woman,
young, with very black eyes and heavy brows,
and who, whenever she encountered Ferdinand
on the deck, grinned at him, but not angrily,
showing very fierce, white teeth.
Two determined-looking females were ever at
her side, treating her with great firmness, but also
9>
My Memories
with profound respect. She had also two male
attendants.
Of course we were dying of curiosity to know
all about the unfortunate lady, and set Ferdinand
to find out what he could about her.
After he had done this, however, we noticed
that he gave her a very wide berth, and that
apparently he was much frightened, for the lady
seemed to have taken a great fancy to the poor
trembling man.
After much tumbling and tossing we arrived at
Civita Vecchia. My sister and I and our maid
were allowed to land for an hour or two at a small
hotel, more dead than alive from sea-sickness.
We had been so ill that we were put into a
small bedroom, where we could have a bath and
other comforts. To add to our interest the poor
mad lady was allowed to land also, and sat by me
in the boat. It was a very short row, a ad she
was quite quiet, but seemed to be looking about
evidently for Ferdinand. When we landed and
got into our bedroom to refresh ourselves, we at
once attacked Louise, our maid, and begged her
to tell us all she had heard about the savage young
lady.
92
Dresden and my Dream
" Hush ! " said Louise, " or she will hear what
you say. Listen to the poor girl's ravings, for she
has been placed, with her women, in the next
room to you."
We listened, and we heard her say over and
over again, " Emmenez-moi chez la Princesse ;
emmenez-moi chez la Princesse. Ou sont les
enfants ? Monsieur me conduira."
She spoke, in a half-broken voice, over and over
again the same words. It touched me extremely,
and I said, " Could nothing be done ? " But Louise
told me that nothing could be done by us, for she
was a great incognita lady, and she was being sent
to Naples to her own medical attendant ; that
she had taken a great fancy to Ferdinand be-
cause he was a Frenchman, but that he showed
great hesitation — I am afraid I called it by another
name, beginning with a C — but that he need have
no fear as she had four attendants.
It was now time for us to return to the boat
on our way to Naples, so we paid our bill and
started in the same rowing boat with the poor
lady. Directly we got on board the ship the
lady seized hold of Ferdinand and begged
him to walk up and down the deck with her,
93
My Memories
which he did, looking the very picture of misery
and terror.
When we arrived in the Bay of Naples we
were so excited at the loveliness of the place, at
the first view of Vesuvius, &c., that everything
else went out of our minds. We understood that
the poor lady was met by officials and servants,
that there had been a fear of some excitement, but
we heard no more.
*
We landed at last and entered again our well-
worn yellow English barouche. Four tres- Anglais-
looking people with the black heavy fourgon
coming on behind, containing a French courier
and a French maid !
The postillions were noisy, as they consider
becomes them, with their horns, while the poor
staggering horses, terrified at the cracking of the
cruel whips, slipped dangerously over the large
square flag-stones, of which most of the Italian
cities' streets are composed — like tombstones they
always seemed to me.
So we entered Naples and drove along the road
to the Grand Hotel. After a wash, a little food,
and a rest on the balcony — oh ! how lovely we
94
Dresden and my Dream
found Naples was ! Could any one be ill or cross
there? The stars were just appearing, the moon
was smiling on us, and across the sea, which is ever
of a deep aqua-marina blue, we received Vesuvius'
greeting as though he (or she?) were throwing up
balls of fire every five or ten minutes to greet us.
We stayed some weeks at the hotel, and then
took apartments at 127 Chiaja (called by the
Italians the " Casa Corby," it having been bought
by an English lady of the name of Corby).
One afternoon as I was sitting working on the
balcony of the Casa Corby, I beheld the greatest
novelty I had yet seen at Naples — an English four-
in-hand 1 It was coming at a great pace towards
our house, and my sister, chancing at that moment
to have gone for some reason into the drawing-
room, I called out to her hastily, " Make haste,
dear, or it will have gone by, and you won't have
seen it."
" Seen what } " she answered from within.
'* A four-in-hand ! do come."
She dashed on to the balcony, and we both
stood eagerly watching, as the vehicle went clatter-
ing by.
As we leant over the balcony, the driver,
95
My Memories
evidently a gentleman, leant forward in a marked
manner, and looked steadily at us.
" What a horrible face ! " exclaimed my sister ;
and as she spoke she turned round to me.
" Darling," she said tenderly, " what is the
matter ? "
I had all but fainted, and a cold, sick shudder
came over me.
** Oh Millicent ! " I ejaculated, " that is the
maris face in my dream ! "
I was so frightened that we both left the balcony,
and for the rest of the day I was cold, and deadly
sick. I did not, hov/ever, dream of the face that
night, nor did I see it again in Naples, although I
sat every day on the balcony, conscious of a shrink-
ing fascination, in the thought that I might do so.
After stopping some months in Naples we went
to Paris, where (being by that time seventeen
years of age) I was permitted to mix a little in
society.
Amongst the English residents in Paris, who
were very hospitable, were Mr. and Mrs. Tudor,
who were very rich and kindly, and even now
the memory of their hospitalities is kept green in
the French capital.
96
Dresden and my Dream
One night they gave a ball, and as I was stand-
ing by my mother, waiting eagerly for my partner
to appear from amid the crowd, I saw, at the
other end of the room, the face which had so
strangely haunted me for so long. The eyes
were watching me, and the man approached me,
as though 1 were his one aim and object. I felt
faint and very cold, and I saw our host coming
towards me. " The Duca di T o is anxious
to know you."
I scarcely had the presence of mind to bow.
I heard the man say something about a dance, and
I turned to my mother. " Mama, take me away.
I am ill."
I could not walk unassisted out of the room,
but Mr. Tudor gave me his arm, and as we were
waiting for the carriage 1 saw the man looking at
me with evident amusement, and I heard Mr.
Tudor tell my mother that it was " a pity I would
not dance with the Duke ; that he was the head
of one of . the oldest Italian families ; had been
most struck with me and was anxious to obtain
an English wife ! "
But 1 never saw the man again, either in
dreamland or in everyday life. We were told,
97 c
My Memories
however, that he started for England the next day,
and soon after we heard of his death. He was
succeeded by his son, who also eventually de-
veloped a wish for, and obtained, a beautiful
English wife, whom he treated, we heard, with
but scant kindness.
98
VIII
BELLA NAPOLI
1847
Passions are likened to floods and streams:
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.
These words came to me as in waking dream
I watched Vesuvius' stream of fire come —
Then pass gently — warily — as tho' afraid
While whispering, " 'Ware maiden ! I'm for destruc-
tion made."
To tell my story I have anticipated one reminis-
cence of Bella Napoli. I must now call to mind
the rest of our visit there.
We stayed at Naples nine months, and should
have been very happy there had it not been for the
excessive heat, part of the time, and for the dirt
the whole time. I hear that things have improved
in this latter way during the last few years, which
must be a mercy to all concerned, and less of a
99
My Memories
discord to those who enjoy the marvellous beauties
of the place.
Soon after our arrival there was a tremendous
storm at sea, destroying innumerable Neapolitan
fishing-boats and drowning the poor sailors. Can
it be believed ? The poor dead bodies were left
for days, floating close to the shore, without any
attempt being made to bring them to land !
Numbers of church dignitaries, priests and monks,
hovered about with bells, images, and other Roman
Catholic religious symbols, but not a soul with a
boat or a spade till, for reasons which we need not
particularise, large planks were brought to the edge
of the water, upon which the poor bodies were
placed flat on their faces, and then they were bound
tightly, swathed round, and carried away without
further ceremony, and we were told they were cast
into a pit a few miles away. Of course I saw the
bodies in the sea, but the rest of the tale I tell
*' as 'twas told to me."
The other horror of la bella Napoli was the
filth of the inhabitants.
My stepfather and I used to ride on horseback
a good deal, and it was a curious fact that I was
the only lady in Naples who rode then. The
lOO
Bella Napoli
pretty comadines used to ride their mules to market
(and how pretty they were in their dress of Italy,
and with their dark eyes !) but no ladies rode.
The Neapolitan ladies in those days seemed to
think much of their personal appearance, and on
my remarking this once to a lady I knew and who
was intimate with some of the Neapolitan grandes
dameSy she told me that several of them were bled
every morning to keep them pale ! As my step-
father and 1 rode out of a morning we were con-
sidered quite a sight of the place, but as I was
excessively nervous and did not ride well, it must
have been but a poor one. Still, the Neapolitans,
and more especially the children, thought it a sight,
and every day they were to be seen, as we passed,
sitting on the steps of a particular church by the
road-way, where there were tiers of steps — the
women and children sitting one above the other,
cleaning each other's heads ! Directly they saw
me coming they would shout, " Ecco la dama
a cavallo," and they would leave their occupation,
jump and scramble down the steps, the children
shrieking, and the women (it makes me shudder
even now to think of it !) throwing their arms and
filthy hands round my habit, and asking us for
lOI
My Memories
money. At last we had to whip up our horses to
get away.
Another blemish of the most beautiful city in
the world was the wretched crippled beggars.
We had to ride every day through the Grotto
di Posilippo. The grotto was then the only nice
ride out of Naples. It was a longish tunnel,
and always, standing at each end, were crowds of
crippled beggars, who used to horrify one by
suddenly thrusting into one's face a crippled arm,
or, by some apparently mechanical process, a
mutilated leg. Or they would tear off their shirts
and horrify us by the sight of an excoriated
back, imploring our sympathy, which we gave,
and also any change we had in our pockets, to
get away from the sight. We had the painful
knowledge that we must return through it all
again, as there was only this one good ride there
and back.
After this experience was over we would come to
a lovely old house with gardens hanging over the
blue sea, and whenever we passed we were kindly
greeted by a charming old gentleman with snowy
hair, white coat and trousers (and boots), and a
long white moustache. He was always working
1 02
Bella Napoli
hard in his garden. I knew him well. He was
the great tenor, Signer Lablache, and this was his
home.
Every day, also, as we rode up the hill, we were
sure to meet a dear, delicate-looking little boy of
about eight years of age. He was dressed in
general's uniform, and was escorted by two gentle-
men also in uniform. The child looked so sad.
How could he be otherwise in such companion-
ship, for I never saw him with another child ^ We
never saw him smile or run. He once said as we
passed, *' La dama Inglise a cavallo." The Italian
groom told us, " That boy will one day be // Re.''
But he never was, poor child, for he died early.
He was King Bomba's grandchild.
We used to be much interested in the grand
funeral processions which took place every day
along the Chiaja. Once I saw the funeral of a dead
monk. He was exposed in a hearse, and covered
with the most heavenly flowers. His grim dead
face was uncovered and was staring up at the sky.
It was the first time I had ever seen death, and it
gave me quite a shock. The hands were crossed
on the breast with a crucifix between them, and all
the people who met the corpse got out of their
103
My Memories
carriages, or off their horses, or out of their
cariccolos, and knelt down in the dirt, crossing
themselves vigorously and beating their breasts.
A few minutes after the dead monk had passed
we crossed the Chiaja and went into the lovely
Villa Reale garden, and met face to face " la bella
Frezzolini," the great actress and singer. She
was carrying an enormous bouquet, pressing it
up to her lovely, fresh, enjoue face, beaming with
smiles. As I said above, I never had seen death
before, and I remember this contrast of death
and vivid life quite upset me again for the moment,
but seemed to strike no one else.
#
My great desire at Naples was to make the ascent
of Mount Vesuvius, and I worried till I got my
way.
My mother would not go, but my stepfather
took me and my sister. A family of the name of
Sapte (a dear old man and his wife and daughter)
joined our party.
We wished much to see the sun rise from the
mountain top. It was very fatiguing, for there
were no helps then as I hear there are now.
There was a poor pony that was goaded up to the
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Bella Napoli
monastery, where we were refreshed with
" Lachrimas Christi " and food. Then the diffi-
culties began. All green pasture had, of course,
disappeared, and we had nothing but cinders to
walk upon.
Two men pushed me up from behind, while
one or two — I forget which — dragged me up by
a rope which was tied round my waist. I had
been warned to put my oldest clothes on, which
luckily I did, for by the time I arrived at the top
I was in rags. We were tired to death, and an
impromptu bed was made, while we awaited the
rising of the sun. The guides who made the
beds were so utterly filthy that I dared not look
to see what the beds were made of.
One request the guides made, which was that
none of the signori would wander too far from
the rest, and the head guide pointed out the exact
distance and told us a ghastly story of a lady who
had wandered^ and had never been found again,
it being supposed, the guide said, she had
approached too near the crater, been suffocated,
and had fallen in. But the signori believed
amongst themselves that the poor dama had had
rough handling.
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My Memories
However, we took the man's warning — at least,
/ did — for I was so dead tired I lay down and
slept soundly and was only aroused by my step-
father shouting in my ear, " There's the sun."
Words fail me to express the beauty of the sky
in a blaze, and the sea of deepest blue.
Suddenly I looked round. " Where's Miss
Sapte ? " I said. She had left her bed of cinders
and was nowhere to be seen. Her father and
everybody were in an agony of fear, and went
about searching near the crater. At last the silly
girl, to our great joy, was found. She was quite
insensible, with her head half over a crack in the
crater. She was dragged away and restored by
remedies the guides had with them, as they said
there were always " imbeciles " amongst the
" parties " they took up, who seemed bent on
killing themselves.
There was great difficulty in getting the poor
girl down the mountain. She did not seem to
regret her adventure, however, for she said she
had " seen sights and heard sounds that we had
not," but mercifully it did her no permanent
harm.
Once again we went up Vesuvius, and this
1 06
Bella Napoli
time when it was in eruption — a most wonderful
sight ! However, we had to be very careful, and I
must say I felt glad when I was safely home again
and in bed, for it was a most tiring and exciting
expedition. After arriving at the friendly
monastery, we were struck with amazement and
excitement at the sight which met our eyes.
There were rivulets of (apparently) liquid fire
passing close by us, but turning away from us.
There were different breadths of this liquid fire,
but the guides told us that the direction they took
depended entirely on the wind. It was a wonderful
sight to see the rivers of fire slipping by, gently
and noiselessly, like a brook, making no noise —
no rushing noise like water. As we got higher
up and could see the liquid fire issuing from the
crater's mouth it terrified me.
" Papa," I said, " I want to go home to
m.ama." And I think he was as glad to go as
I was ! What alarmed me most was that every
now and then one saw fissures which seemed to
have broken through both rock and cinders, and
we never knew, of course, where another might
next appear — perhaps just where we were sitting !
To this day it is a wonder to me how the
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My Memories
peasants around Vesuvius, after an eruption, in
which their homes have been destroyed, can calmly
rebuild their ruined houses and live fearlessly in
them as before. Perhaps they have greater courage
than I have, or, better still, greater faith.
*****
One more curious occurrence and I think I
have told my memories of Naples.
A great friend of ours, a naval captain, came to
Naples when we were there, and we saw a great
deal of him. He was Scotch, like my stepfather,
and had the same dislike for the Roman Catholic
beliefs and ceremonies.
There were always great functions on St.
Januarius' Day, that holy man being Naples' own
especial saint. On that occasion any great question
of the day, whether political or otherwise, used to be
settled after this curious fashion. A high dignitary
of the Church would bring to the altar a large
bowl, supposed to be filled with the saint's blood.
This bowl was carried round to the kneeling people
at the altar, and if at their touch the blood
coagulated the saint was supposed to disapprove;
if it became liquid he was supposed to be pleased.
Our naval friend, hearing of the coming
1 08
Bella Napoli
function, declared it was only a juggler's trick,
and said that he would go and kneel and see if he
could find a spring. He went and tried, but what
was the upshot I never heard. All I did hear was
that the unbeliever had to leave Naples post
haste.
We left Bella Napoli with regret, despite all
drawbacks. To-day, even, I recall the ineffable
beauty and charm of this, surely, the most beauti-
ful, spot of God's earth.
109
IX
PARIS AND LOUIS PHILIPPE
1847-8
And mortals dared to ponder for themselves.
To weigh kings in the balance, and to speak
Of freedom, the forbidden fruit,
Byron.
I
THE COURT OF LOUIS PHILIPPE
I WAS irx Paris between the years 1847-9 — those
years fraught with disaster to kings, queens and
all in authority — a young girl full of happy hopes
and expectations,, for in la ville lumiere I was to
*' come out."
Louis Philippe was then " King of the French,"
and as, during his long exile in England, he had
been intimate with my mother's relations, upon
hearing of our arrival in Paris he showed great
anxiety to be civil to us.
110
Paris and Louis Philippe
The French Court was at St. Cloud for a few
weeks, but we received a kind intimation from
the King that he would like us to pay him and
the Queen, Marie Amelie, a visit one evening after
dinner, as the weather was fine and the drive would
be agreeable.
I cannot call to mind the exact date of our visit
to beautiful St. Cloud, but I think it must have
been in the early days of the month of September
1847.
Here I must break my narrative for a moment,
in order to give my younger readers a piece of
advice in four words — always keep a Journal.
Whether you be surrounded by stirring events,
by strange or historical characters, or whether you
be quietly at home, I repeat, keep a Journal. It
need not be one in which you enlarge upon your
private ideas and sacred feelings, for if by an evil
chance the lines should be read by an unscrupulous
stranger, they might lay you open to ridicule.
Besides, when one is very young one changes
one's opinions oftener than one realises, or cares
to confess. Also, chronicling things that are
better kept to one's self may be dangerous ; for any
surreptitious reader, should he be capable of the
III
My Memories
bassesse of perusing what was plainly not meant for
his eyes, would be equally capable of telling the
matter. This happened once to me, and conse-
quently I was foolish enough to give up my Journal
entirely ; therefore, everything I write now is from
memory. I advise my young readers simply to
chronicle their everyday common incidents, men-
tioning the people they meet and the places they
see, with aateSy and memory easily fills in the
blanks.
But to proceed with my narrative. On the
evening in question we drove to St. Cloud, that
beautiful, stately, and now, alas ! non-existent
palace. An official, with whom we were acquainted,
was on the look-out for us. With but little
ceremony he conducted us through several saloons
into the presence of the good old Queen, Marie
Amelie, who was seated on a sofa at a very large
round table, surrounded by many female members
of the Royal Family of France.
With my innate love for objets d'art, I was at
once struck by the beauty of this round table. It
was of rosewood, with carved and gilt legs, and it
shone like a looking-glass, reflecting the lights and
the people after a dazzling fashion. The Queen
I 12
I
Paris and Louis Philippe
was dressed in black, very simply, and wore no
jewels. When we entered she most kindly rose to
embrace my mother, and placed her on the sofa
by her side. The Queen was knitting a coarse
grey shawl, and laid her work by, on the table,
so as to devote herself, in her gentle condescension,
to making my mother welcome. She spoke
smilingly to me, and gave me her hand to kiss,
and then presented us both to the old Princess
Adelaide (the King's sister), who was sitting on
the sofa on her other side. This Princess Ade-
laide was a shrewd-looking old lady. She was
also dressed in black, and wore what caused me
some girlish amusement— an old-fashioned lace
cap, tied under the chin, exactly like what we call
in Scotland a " match."
The princess bowed very kindly to us both, but
she looked very weary, and the words she spoke
were in a very feeble voice. Indeed, she lived
but a few months from that evening.
After we had sat at the table for about twentv
minutes, during which time the Queen asked after
every member of my mother's family whom she
remembered, the Princess Adelaide whispered a
word into her sister-in-law's ear. The Queen
113 H
My Memories
rose at once (as we all did) and, after saying
a few gentle words to the old princess about
the journee having been assez longuCy she gave her
her arm, and guided her very carefully to a door,
which I had not yet perceived, and where there
were some attendants waiting outside to receive
her. The two royal ladies kissed one another
affectionately in the doorway and bade each other
good-night. The Queen then returned to the sofa,
reseated herself, and made my mother do the same.
The younger princesses, who had also risen to bid
their aged relative good-night, also sat down again,
and I, who had been hoping that the time had now
come for my mother and myself to make our fare-
well curtseys and depart (it seemed to me a deadly
dull function !) was fated to be disappointed.
But I was now taken in hand by the pretty
Duchesse de Nemours, who, with her lovely
complexion and soft, fair curls, was very pleasant
to look upon. She talked brightly to me about
Paris and its sights, and also presented me to the
lady on her right hand, who turned out to be no
other than the young Spanish bride, the Duchesse
de Montpensier, sister to Queen Isabella.
My mother and I, during our drive to St.
114
Paris and Louis Philippe
Cloud, had wondered whether we should see this
lady, so lately the cause of great political heart-
burnings, so lately, also, the prize coveted and
obtained by King Louis Philippe's astute manage-
ment. I was therefore deeply interested in seeing
her. She was not pretty, I thought, but lively-
looking, and was very good-natured to me. She
had her work like the rest of the princesses, and
I fancied she looked rather " bored."
As I was answering something the duchess had
said to me the Queen addressed me across the
table. She said, in a motherly fashion, that she
feared I was spending rather a dull evening,
there being no one of my own age to talk to, and
would I like, therefore, to passer into the small
salle adjoining (she pointed to an open door
on the other side of the room), where there
was some beautiful china and other things which
would amuse me.
I rose, and after making a profound curtsey
to the thoughtful Queen I passe-Q.d. into the room
as I was commanded, and truly found some
lovely things within it of china, knick-knacks,
pictures, and miniatures. I amused myself by
wondering to how many kings and queens
115
My Memories
these articles had belonged, and whether poor
Josephine had ever admired them as I was doing.
When I entered the room at first I found it
empty, but as I was standing admiring some lovely-
blue Sevres a door opened behind me, and I saw in
a looking-glass the reflection of a gentleman, who
came in alone. He watched me for a few
moments, but I was far too shy to look at him.
I pretended I was not aware of his presence, but
presently, as he approached me, I looked up, and
said to myself (although I had never seen him
before), " It is the King." And I curtseyed deeply.
King Louis Philippe (for he it was) nodded
kindly, and, putting out his hand, placed it
lightly on my shoulder, saying in perfect English,
" I know who you are from your likeness to
and " (mentioning some of my relations).
" But you — how do you know who /am '^. "
I answered, " I know you from the pictures I
have seen of you, sir."
He laughed and said, " Ah, yes ! The pictures
in Punchy I suppose ? "
I laughed this time and nodded, and he seemed
much amused. After a few words about the objets
(Tart in the room he took my hand and led me
ii6
Paris and Louis Philippe
back to the Queen in the next room, and I heard
him repeat to her our conversation about Punchy
at which she and the princesses laughed very
much, and / thought privately that they all seemed
highly amused at mighty little.
II. THE FALL OF LOUIS PHILIPPE
The next time I sav/ the King and Queen it was
under very different circumstances. It was in
the month of February 1848.
The whole of Paris was in revolt, and the
Champs Elysees was infested by mobs, while the
firing of cannon was to be heard on the other side
of the river and in the farther parts of the city.
We lived in the Rue de Berri, not far from the
Arc de Triomphe, and therefore we were consider-
ably out of the town and away from the fighting ;
rather more so, in fact, than my sister and I cared
for. For we, being young and foolish, did not
know what fear was, and were in the habit of
walking out constantly with a French maid we
had, who was middle-aged, and a sort of tower
of strength, whose politics, also, were iridescent,
and like those of the immortal Pickwick (who,
117
My Memories
whenever he met two mobs, shouted with the
largest). We felt safe under her wing, and she
also liked going out with us to see whatever was
to be seen.
We were, of course, forbidden to take our walks
beyond the Champs Elysees, for the " people "
were thoroughly roused, and barricades, we heard,
were already erected in the Faubourg St. Antoine ;
but all we ever came across in our peregrinations
was now and again a mob of people marching into
Paris from the outlying villages. The chance,
however, of such encounters even as these, would,
one would have thought, have been quite enough
to alarm three women, and how we ever had the
courage to run these risks I cannot now conceive.
But, of course, one sees dangers after the event
which one missed in the curiosity of the moment.
Oh ! those horrid women who generally were
the leaders of these mobs ! No place under
heaven but Paris could produce such women ! with
their black, unkempt hair streaming over their
shoulders, their savage eyes, coarse faces, and
scarcely decent rags, brandishing in their hands
anything they could get in the way of weapons —
iron bars and shovels. A woman once passed us
ii8
Paris and Louis Philippe
carrying a large china doll, holding it by the legs,
and one felt with a shudder that its silly, smiling
face could have given one a crushing blow if artisti-
cally swung. Then the coarse gestes of these
viragos, and the vile language with which they
diversified their march — language which we did not
understand, but which Louise did ! Generally
very young men were led by these unsexed animals,
and whenever we saw a mob of this kind coming
we would run into z.porte cochere, if there was one
available, or up a side avenue, hide ourselves
behind the trees, and wait till the crowd had
gone by.
One day a mob suddenly appeared about two
hundred yards from us, round a corner, so we
separated, I and my sister running into a side
avenue to hide behind some felled trees, while
Louise crouched down behind a heap of stones on
the roadway. Presently I and my sister saw 2. fiacre,
with only one horse, approach and go trotting by.
As it passed we looked curiously in at its occupants,
and, with a pang of sympathy and regret which I
shall never forget, we beheld an old lady with white
hair, thin features, and a pale, kind face, in company
with another lady and an old gentleman, whose face
119
My Memories
and neck were much muffled up. But both I and
my sister instantly recognised the alarming truth —
namely, that we had been the witnesses of the King
and Queen's escape rrom the Tuileries !
We agreed not to tell the maid ; but when we got
home we were met at the door by my mother, who,
with a scared face, told us that the King had abdicated
and escaped, that a Republic was proclaimed, and
that we must get back to England as quickly as we
could. But this we found to be no easy matter.
My stepfather repaired at once to the Embassy
to consult Lord Normanby as to the passports, &c.,
and there he found congregated most of the English
whom we knew, all on the same quest. The
Ambassador advised us to wait patiently, which
advice we followed, for the best possible reason
in the world — namely, that we were obliged to
do so ; for not till all the confusion was over were
steamers allowed to ply between France and other
countries.
# # * * #
After these stirring events, and while waiting to
get away from Paris, we young ladies were kept
prisoners at home, as it was not considered safe for
us to run the risk of further adventures. This
1 20
Paris and Louis Philippe
we thought very tiresome, for we were not even
allowed to leave the house, except under the escort
of our old French courier (Ferdinand), who had
lived with us ever since I was a child. He was
considered a safe protector, and was allowed to
take us out one at a time,
Ferdinand had travelled with us in Germany
and Italy for the previous two years and a half,
and during that time had been our courier, cook,
nurse, friend, and, in fact, everything that an old
French servant of the ancien regime alone can be !
The reason, too, why he was considered our safest
escort at present was because, from living quietly
in old England for so many years, he had given
up his nationality — his worship of la patrie
and la gloire — and was eminently cautious when-
ever and wherever he scented danger.
My mother knew also that, besides this element
of prudence in his nature, he loved us children
too dearly ever to leave us in an emergency, and
she considered it a valuable quality in the old
Frenchman that he knew exactly when and where
it was safest for him to take to his heels, and make
us do the same.
One evening, when it was almost dusk, Ferdinand
121
My Memories
came into our salon, and, making me a private sign,
got me out of the room and told me that if I
liked to come out for half an hour he would take
me " to see something I should never see again, nor
ever forget."
Bursting with curiosity, I put my bonnet on and
quietly left the house with him. The Champs
Elysees was tolerably quiet, but as we passed
through the Rue de Rivoli I was aware of a throng
of people who seemed to be eagerly pursuing the
same path as ourselves.
Suddenly we crossed the road, and after much
hustling and abuse, such as " Sacre nom d'un
chien ! " (although the people seemed quite good-
humoured), we found ourselves in a dense crowd,
standing behind the dear old Tuileries Palace, and
jammed up against its golden-tipped gates which
protected the court at the back, or were meant to
do so.
We had a full view of the open court and of
the back of the palace, and at first sight I thought
I was looking at a bonfire ; and so, alas ! I was,
for I cannot enumerate howmany beautifuUygilded,
painted, and enamelled coaches I saw, lined with
brocades and trimmed with exquisite gold lace,
122
Paris and Louis Philippe
some very old (of the time of Louis XV, and
Louis XVL Ferdinand whispered to me), some
new, and all beautiful ! Each of these was drawn
up in order, calmly awaiting its execution ; and
as the time for each came I saw it savagely seized
upon by dirty, unhallowed, unappreciative hands,
broken up by filthy men — and women — and cast
into the flames. As each golden fragment was
thrown in, a fresh burst of flame and sparks arose,
hissing and spitting, and was greeted by the coarse
delight of the yelling mob, which took hands and
danced round the fire as it shrieked out its wicked
ribald songs. There were curses, too, and shouts
against kings and queens in particular, and les
aristocrates in general ; and as I watched the flames
burning and swaying in the wind, and heard the
horrid crackling in the semi-darkness, I could not
but shudder at the unearthly appearance of the
grotesque and filthily begrimed mob as it danced
and yelled, each figure appearing at one moment
lurid and distinct, and at the next shadowy and
almost hidden by the ruddy, rolling smoke.
As the work of destruction went on, I thought
to myself, " Could hell be worse ? — more awful .'' "
With a heavy heart and scarcely repressed sob
123
My Memories
at the thought of that gracious and gentle lady
Queen Amelie, who so lately had looked from
those very carriage windows, acknowledging with
kindly bows the salutes of the passers-by, and
perhaps smiling on some of these very individuals
who were now ready to tear her and her husband
limb from limb, I turned to Ferdinand and whis-
pered, " Take me away. Tou were right. I
never shall forget this horrid sight, and 1 pray
God I may never see such another. And I wish
— oh, how 1 wish I had never seen this ! "
III. THE DUNDONALDS
Among the many famous people I met during
our sojourn in Paris were Lord and Lady Dun-
donald. My mother did not know either of them
personally till we went to Paris, and Lady Dun-
donald was profuse in her affection for my mother,
as being the daughter of King William IV., who all
through her husband's career had supported him
under many vicissitudes and attacks.
Lord Dundonald was the son of the ninth Earl
of Dundonald. He was first known as Lord
Cochrane, and before he succeeded to the Earldom
124
Paris and Louis Philippe
he was very poor', for his father had ruined the
family by scientific experiments. He had to
begin life, he always said, as the heir to a very
old peerage without other expectations than those
arising from his own exertions. He entered the
Navy at seventeen or eighteen, and after a voyage
to Norway became a lieutenant in 1796. Two
years later he became master and commander,
and with the Speedy^ a sloop of war of four-
teen guns, and fifty-four men (the least efficient
craft in the Mediterranean), in ten months or
a year he took thirty vessels, of one of which he
was made post-captain. That was in 1801. In the
same year, however, the Speedy herself was taken
by the French fleet under Admiral Linois ; but so
great had been the admiration for Lord Cochrane's
(as he was then) courage, that on tendering his sword
it was at once returned to him. Soon afterwards he
went on half-pay and returned to England, and there
it was that he married a Miss Barnes, a most lovely
young girl. He ran away with her from a boarding-
school, and how she could have done it I never
could think, for he was the ugliest man I ever saw,
with a nose like a pincushion, which looked as
though it must once have been broken, and then
125
My Memories
that attempts had been made to pinch it into
shape ! In those days there were none of those
wonderful advertisements one sees now about
" ugly noses."
They married and had several children, one
most beautiful daughter, Lady Katharine, who
married a Mr. Fleming, who was a great yachts-
man. When I was at Naples, Lady Katharine
used to live in her yacht, and go to all the Court
and other balls, always sleeping on board her
yacht. All the Italian princes were in love with
her, especially the Due d'Aguila, who offended
everybody very much by one night, as he was
leaving the ballroom of the palace in procession
with the King, turning round and openly kissing
his hand to the fair Katharine as he left the room.
Lord Cochrane had got into some terrible scrapes
— money scrapes — something to do with the money
prizes of some vessels, and he was actually com-
mitted to prison. People went to prison for all
sorts of things in those days. He was deprived of
the Order of the Bath, of his rank in the Navy, and
his seat in the House of Commons, but the electors
of Westminster again returning him their member,
he broke from prison and took his seat. He was,
126
Paris and Louis Philippe
however, recaptured. All through his troubles
William IV., then the Duke of Clarence, upheld
him and took his part.
In 1 8 1 8 Lord Cochrane and his beautiful wife
went to Chili, and he aided in establishing the
Republic there and the Empire of Brazil. His
wife was with him, showing as much courage
and audacity as her husband. She was made
Mistress of the Robes to the Empress of Brazil,
and she used to tell a long story of her once
being employed by the Emperor to ride across
the mountains alone, entrusted with most valu-
able documents to some friendly Power. I don't
know exactly where or what for, but some brigands
got hold of her, and, tearing her off her horse,
searched her thoroughly, as they thought, and when
she tried to escape, wounded her severely with a
stiletto (she often showed me the mark). In spite
of it all, she saved her papers, shot one of her
assailants, and galloped off safe and nearly sound.
In 1 83 1 Lord Cochrane's father died and he
became the tenth Earl of Dundonald, and in 1841
was made Vice-admiral of the Blue. In 1 847 the
Order of the Bath was restored to him and he was
created a G.C.B.
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My Memories
It is always said that Lord Dundonald was a
modern Themistocles, but all his life people spoke
of him with bated breath, although he was one of
the bravest men that ever lived.
Years later Lady Dundonald was presented to
Queen Victoria at Court by my mother. She
died a few years later at a pretty house she had
bought at Boulogne-sur-Mer.
128
THE COURT OF HANOVER
1850
"But we were to go to the palace, and ihis is a
common hotel."
These words issued from the indignant lips of
my mother on arriving at Hanover. She was
accompanied by her two daughters, myself and
my sister.
The old King Ernest Augustus of Hanover
(Duke of Cumberland, son of George III.) was
much attached to my mother. Hearing we were
abroad he warmly invited her, with us girls, to pay
him a visit at the Court of Hanover. So my
mother's surprise and astonishment were great
when we drove up, not to the palace, but to the
hotel — having been met by a gentleman on horse-
back, who escorted us, informing us that that was
to be our residence instead of the palace.
129 I
My Memories
In those days an hotel in a small German town
was not very imposing in its appearance, but as we
reached the entrance a royal carriage drove up,
out of which a kind-looking old lady alighted, who
embraced my mother and took her into the hotel.
After a short conversation this lady told my
mother some facts which we girls only heard some
long time after — namely, that in spite of King
Ernest's wish to have us as guests in the palace, he
had been persuaded not to do so by old Madame
G , who at that time had supreme sway over
him and all that belonged to him.
We soon got over our disappointment about
the palace, for the old King was more than kind,
calling almost every day. On one occasion my
mother was very unwell and obliged to remain in
bed. The King declared it was in consequence
of her having made too free with the wild straw-
berries which abounded in the woods. This, how-
ever, became really a serious illness, for it culmin-
ated in a frightful swelling of the chin, which kept
her in bed for days.
The first time we dined at the palace after our
arrival we were much amused. The King was
delighted to see us, and received us most affection-
130
The Court of Hanover
ately. He was an old man even then — well over
seventy — and was as magnificent a specimen of an
English gentleman as I ever saw. He was enor-
mously tall and finely made, and was always
dressed in his Hussar uniform, with his sabre-
tasche hanging at his side. To the delight of our
youthful hearts, he rapped his heels sonorously and
bowed every time he addressed us. He kissed my
mother over and over again. A curious thing
happened soon after we entered the room. We
waited for some time — as evidently somebody was
expected — and talked, pour passer le temps ; when
suddenly the poor blind Crown Prince (afterwards
George V.) walked in supported by his gentleman,
and with the Crown Princess (now the ex-Queen
Mary of Hanover) at his side.
The Crown Prince had not been told of my
mother's expected arrival, but, as he walked in
he stopped suddenly and exclaimed, " I hear a
FitzClarence voice," and then a very affectionate
and happy meeting took place between him and
my mother.
The dinners at the palace were very amusing,
especially if his Majesty chanced to be in a good
temper. They began at half-past four o'clock.
131
My Memories
After a not very long repast the King and his
guests adjourned to another apartment, where a
singular additional meal was served, consisting of
coffee and raw ham. This meal having been dis-
cussed, the King and his guests used to start in
various carriages to drive round Herrenhausen, the
last vehicle containing the King andMadameG .
Instead of returning to the palace, the guests
were dropped at their respective homes, the King
alone going back to the palace.
I may here state that the King's partialities
were certainly not in favour of his German subjects
or their country. He would have vastly preferred
it had the crown of England devolved on him.
If he could say a bitter thing to wound his Hano-
verian subjects he never lost an opportunity of
doing so. For instance, one night when some-
thing had put him out, he showed his contempt for
his Hanoverian capital in this way : He asked my
sister, who was sitting opposite him, where she
had been that day.
She answered, " I have been a very long way, Sir.
I took a long walk." Not being acquainted with
the locality she was unable to explain to him
exactly where she had been.
132
The Court of Hanover
He replied, " Pish ! nonsense ; why the whole
town is not larger than a fourpenny-piece."
The Hanoverians of course looked very angry,
and the King was highly diverted, for the company
all understood English.
The King had a curious habit, when he was in
a good temper, of passing his plate, whether con-
taining soup or fish, &c,, to the lady seated next to
him, but if his Majesty was put out, this gracious
civility was omitted,
A curious thing happened one day to us at Han-
over. My sister and I were out walking with a
certain Mrs. Edgecombe, the wife of one of the
English attaches. We were walking on a long,
narrow, straight road bordered by trees, when we
saw and heard a runaway, riderless horse approach-
ing at full speed. So narrow was the road that it
seemed impossible that we could escape injury.
Mrs. Edgecombe flung herself down across the road,
calling out to us to do the same — and we did so.
How we all escaped injury I don't know, but we all
were untouched. That evening the adventure was
related to the King, who was very fond of Mrs.
Edgecombe, and always delighted to have an excuse
for kissing a pretty woman, he embraced her on
133
My Memories
the spot, to show his delight at her escape. Her
husband, who was present, remarked (I remember,
rather drily), " Let us hope that your Majesty's
embrace was paternal^
* * » # *
We were one morning seated at breakfast in the
hotel. It was a delicious breakfast, consisting of
kUchen, cafe^ and wild strawberries. Our arrange-
ments had not yet been made for the day. Generally
by this time the dinner command had arrived.
However, after a short time of patience, a horse-
man rode up to the hotel and delivered the expected
envelope. But it turned out not to be the one we
had anticipated.
To-day the man awaited a reply, and we dis-
covered that the present missive came from Mont-
Brillant, the home of the Crown Prince and
Princess, and contained a command for us to dine
early with them in order to proceed with them on
an expedition.
My mother wrote an acceptance to the invita-
tion, and consequently, about half-past four, we
found ourselves at Mont-Brillant. When we
arrived there we saw that there was some evident
excitement " in the wind." The Crown Prince and
134
The Court of Hanover
Princess were both sitting in the intensest heat,
beneath a haystack. They seemed delighted at
our arrival. The Princess jumped up, and
taking my mother by the arm, carried her off
to a safe distance to disclose to her the mystery of
the coming amusement. We then partook of a
hasty repast, and the whole party, consisting of the
Prince and Princess, some of their ladies and
gentlemen, and ourselves, started for a village not
far off, in hired carriages so as to avoid recog-
nition, where there was to be a sort of fete cham-
petre — a village marriage.
" Mind," the Princess said, *' it is a great secret.
No one at the palace knows anything of our
expedition ; we may dance and amuse ourselves
unknown to anybody." I remember thinking at
the moment, how could that poor blind man,
being led by his gentlemen, expect to go
unrecognised }
My mother feared, and said so, that some annoy-
ance would result from this expedition ; for,
however familiar the old King might be with
those he cared for, whenever he was really put out
his wrath was very terrifying, as we discovered
to our cost the next day.
>35
My Memories
We arrived at the country village, which was in
the centre of a wood, and a pretty sight it was, with
peasants dressed in different costumes and holding
myriads of lanterns. It struck me at the time, and
I think so still even after all these years, that these
picturesque preparations must have been made with
the knowledge that some persons, other than the
villagers, would grace the scene. The dance did
not last very long, but of one thing I am certain —
i.e., that my sister and I never enjoyed one more.
The danseurs were all so handsome, and the way
they danced was so peculiar.
They did not place their arms round our waists
as is done in England, but put their hands upon
our hips, while our hands rested on their shoul-
ders. I could not help, while enjoying my own
dancing, watching the poor Crown Prince, who,
having been placed at a table, with pipes and mugs
upon it, playing at being one of the common herd,
seemed to enjoy the music, which certainly was
perfectly beautiful.
After a little while the time came for us to
return, and we started for home.
My mother had felt rather nervous about the
whole amusement — as to how the King would take
136
The Court of Hanover
it if he found it out — and her fears proved to be
correct. Our dinner command on the next
morning arrived, but without the usual affectionate
message.
So my mother felt rather uneasy. We saw none
of the royal people all day, and none of their be-
longings. But on our arrival at the palace for
dinner, we were met by one of his Majesty's gentle-
men, who looked very glum, and who, as we were
going to pass as usual into the salon, touched my
mother on the shoulder and said we were not to go
in at present as the Crown Prince and Princess were
" having an audience ! " This sounded so awful
that my mother nearly fainted. We sat down and
waited. We heard rather loud voices, and then
suddenly the door burst open. The King came
out first, looking like an avenging angel, while the
Crown Prince and Princess followed. The latter
was weeping bitterly and asking forgiveness.
The King, however, was in apparently a most
unforgiving mood. He merely clicked his heels
together, bowed deeply and coldly to both his son
and his daughter-in-law, and gave them their
conge. They instantly left the palace, and we
saw them no more that night.
137
My Memories
My mother was much distressed, and approached
the King, asking his forgiveness. He gave his hand
to her to kiss, but he was very cold and distant in
his manner at dinner, and did not pass her his plate.
After dinner, when they were sitting in the
salon, the King, who was evidently softening
gradually, came close to her on the sofa, laid
his hand kindly on her shoulder, and said, " I
forgive you my dear, but you are older than the
others, and ought to have known better." We
stayed some months longer at Hanover and en-
joyed ourselves immensely. The King was ever
the same to us, kindly and affectionate, for at
heart he was of a kindly nature.
The greatest pleasure, almost, of his life at that
time was his little grandson, the present Duke of
Cumberland, who was then quite a small child.
Indeed, I am not sure that at that time he was
able to walk alone. He was a very ugly child,
with a perfectly flat nose. Every day after dinner,
at a given moment, the two folding-doors at the
top of the dining-room were thrown open, and
two smart nurses would appear, one carrying the
nice, fat, ugly baby, which was taken straight to its
grandfather's (the old King's) arms.
138
The Court of Hanover
It was touching to see the otherwise stern and
impatient old man open his arms delightedly, as the
ugly and anything but well-behaved child seized
hold of the small white tuft of hair which still
ornamented his grandfather's head ; all the while
screaming, kicking over the salt-cellars, and
catching hold of the King's eye-glass. This last
performance was rather dangerous, and generally
at this point of the amusement the King would
endeavour to disengage himself from the struggling
and, by now, indignant infant — a disentanglement
which was achieved with some difficulty.
The last amusement the child craved for and
daily received was as follows : The King would
open his mouth (a mouth full of the most beautiful
teeth even at that age), put out his tongue, and the
child would pass his hands and cheeks over it — a
performance which caused great delight to the royal
grandfather, but rather a shudder to the onlookers.
This performance over, the King would rise and say,
"Now let us go to the nursery and see him washed,"
a process which most of the company considered
very necessary after the licking. As soon as we (the
King, the Crown Prince and Princess, and some of
the ladies and gentlemen) got up into the nurseries,
139
My Memories
chairs were placed round a tub full of hot
water, into which some sweet scent was thrown ;
then we all sat and watched the child's natural
delight in his bath. The King generally got wet
through. The poor blind Crown Prince, when
any especial splash or delighted screech from the
child took place, used to turn round with an
amused laugh and ask, *' What part of his body is
being washed now ?'' I need not say that this
was rather an awkward question at times.
One evening after the child had been washed
and put to bed and all the royalties got rid of, old
Madame , who loved my mother, took her
to see the late Queen of Hanover's bedroom, which,
according to a curiously sentimental fashion, was
always prepared as though the dead lady were to
rest in the room that night. The bed was turned
down, the pillow smoothed, hot water and even
slippers brought — and all this for the Queen who
had been dead for years !
The Queen, it seems, had died from some mys-
terious illness, which no one understood in those
days. A certain soothsayer had been called in, who
had written curious signs and words upon the door
of her room, close to the bed.
140
The Court of Hanover
These words had been repeated over and over
again, but with no effect.
After the Queen's death the writing had been
covered over with sheet glass to preserve it.
Our happy time at Hanover came to an end all
too soon, but we had the delight of two or three
balls, and nothing can equal, to my recollection,
the beauty of the military bands. To dance to a
Hanoverian band was, to me, a dream of ecstasy.
There was one especial brass band, the softness
and sweetness of which I can never forget.
King Ernest desired that band (I do not remember
the number of instruments, all brass, but it was
large) to play by itself. The music was softer
and more entrancing in its tones than anything
I ever heard before or since.
A curious custom used to take place at these
Court balls, which I never knew of elsewhere. It
was as follows : If a pair of lovers had made up
their minds to enter the hymeneal state, they had
to give notice of their intention a certain time
before the ball, and the happy pair had to stand
together as the King passed by and to ask him for
his consent and blessing. This he generally
gave with much gusto and with jokes that used
141
My Memories
to bring the pink colour into the bride-elect's
cheeks.
Another curious custom was that no girl was
ever asked to dance if she were dressed in black.
We did not know this till later on during our visit.
When, however, we became cognisant of the fact,
we were careful to avoid the dismal colour.
The King was very autocratic in his ways, and was
very angry because the English clergyman, upon
being asked to one of the balls, humbly begged
the King to spare him the heat and discomfort of
attending the function in his clerical black-silk
gown. This request the King angrily refused,
saying that every Court had its own fashions, and
he had his. So the chaplain did not go to the ball.
One other circumstance I recall with great
pleasure. That is, the King taking us one day
into the magnificent stables of Herrenhausen to see
one of the beautiful white horses which had been
trained to rear after the Hanoverian fashion at the
sound of his master's voice — a voice, alas ! long
since silent.
These happy days are over, but they will never
be forgotten by me.
There is no Kingdom of Hanover now — no King
142
The Court of Hanover
of Hanover — no grand old Hussar of dignified and
kingly mien — for he, with all his faults (which
I, as a young girl knew nothing about), was one's
ideal of a kingly man, both in manner and appear-
ance, and he was ever kind and affectionate to
my mother and myself.
H3
XI
THE EARLY COURT OF QUEEN
VICTORIA
1850
Standing with reluctant feet
Where the brook and river meet.
We came back to England in 1850, and took
up our life again at Kensington Palace. Then I
and my sister duly " came out " and were pre-
sented, and made our appearance in the world as
" young ladies." I think I used to love the Court
balls at Buckingham Palace as much as any other
balls we ever went to. People used to say they were
not " good dancing balls " and for people who were
ndifs enough to go to a ball to dance (!) perhaps
they were not ; but even so, to a young, happy,
healthy girl, many a good happy dance was to be
enjoyed in Buckingham Palace.
In those days the present large ballroom had
14.4
Early Court of Queen Victoria
neither been " born nor thought of." The dancing
took place in two rooms, and one of the principal
features of the entertainment, and certainly the
one that guests looked forward to most, was that
several times during the evening Queen Victoria
and Prince Albert and their suite would change
from one room to the other, and the procession,
&c., used to be gorgeous and amusing to a degree.
It took place thus :
In the midst of some waltz or quadrille an
agitated official with a long wand would rush
excitedly into the centre of the dancers, then by
dint of calling out and frantically (I never thought
this part of the programme looked very dignified)
waving his wand, he would at last attract the
attention of the generally, and curiously, oblivious
musicians, who would at last become aware of the
seriousness of their position and of the whole state
of the case. They would stop playing, one of
them, a sleepy one, I suppose, invariably continuing
on his waltz or his quadrille longer than the rest,
and then " God Save the Queen " struck up. All
the couples who had been dancing would form a
line, then the Queen would glide by, bowing right
and left, after a graceful fashion peculiarly her own,
145 K
My Memories
towards the seats prepared for her and the Prince
and the other royalties, and for the ladies and
gentlemen of their suite, which were ranged round
one side of the room.
At one of these Court balls an amusing circum-
stance occurred, which I never heard mentioned
by any one. It was witnessed by my mother before
I " came out," who related it to me.
The Queen and the other R.oyalties, after some
ball or concert, had been in to supper, and the
signal had been given for the return to the ball-
room. The Queen, in a fit of absent-mindedness,
as she turned from the supper-table, instead of
taking up her fan, which had been lying by the
side of her plate, took up a large fork !
She went forward some steps into the ball-room
before discovering her mistake, bowing and smiling
as was her wont ; but then the Prince Consort,
discovering the awkward fact, took away the
alarming weapon, substituting the less dangerous
one (the fan) instead.
# # # « *
As I am writing of Queen Victoria and her
Court in the earlier part of her reign, I may as
well jot down here (though not in strict sequence)
146
Early Court of Queen Victoria
some stories of her Majesty in those years, which
came to me first hand.
My uncle, Lord Adolphus FitzClarence, was for
many years captain of the Royal Yacht, and often
told us amusing anecdotes. One very funny
incident took place one evening at the royal
dinner on board.
The Queen used often to command certain
favoured individuals to dine with her and the
Prince on board the yacht, and one night some
favoured admiral or captain was bidden, and on his
arrival, he found to his horror that he was late,
that, in fact, the Queen and the Prince had already
sat down to dinner.
Upon entering the presence he was so covered
with confusion that the Queen did all she could to
comfort him and set him at his ease ; but the un-
fortunate man would not be comforted, and in his
distress he gradually kept bowing and bowing, and
consequently backing and backing, unfortunately not
noticing a tray, covered with glass and china, which
stood behind him. Soon, however, there was a crash,
a tremendous sound of rolling and smashing — and
there the story leaves me. I know, however, that
the Sovereign did not forthwith command that
My Memories
the offender's head should be struck off ; on the
contrary, 1 heard it whispered that with the true
instinct of a kind heart the Queen laughed at the
incident, and pitying the poor man's confusion
and annoyance, soon turned the contretemps into a
joke, and treated him afterwards rather as an old
friend.
Another story my uncle told me was of one
night on board the yacht in which he had spent
hours of untold anxiety. The Queen, all her life,
was passionately fond of fresh air, but on board
the yacht, and in her private cabin, this was only
obtainable by keeping the port-holes open, and,
needless to say, under certain circumstances this
would not be possible — would not be safe. One
night — or rather in the small hours of the morn-
ing— a gale suddenly arose, and my uncle knew,
to his great anxiety and distress, that the port-
holes in the royal cabin were open. What
was to be done '^. They must be shut ! and no
one but the captain could venture into the royal
cabin — the Queen's bedroom ! So, screwing
up his courage to the sticking- place, he softly
and with cat-like steps entered the sacred cabin,
crept across it, shut the port-holes, crept back
148
Early Court of Queen Victoria
again undiscovered, and " turned in," greatly
relieved.
Two amusing little anecdotes I must set down
and then I have done. One day Lord Adolphus
was sent for by her Majesty, who seemed greatly
perturbed, inform.ing my non-plussed uncle that
one of the royal children had been bitten during
the previous night by a daring and (presum-
ably) over-loyal flea ! The cabin must be
searched, &c. &c. My poor uncle was much
upset. How could such an awful contingency
have arrived. Search was instituted high and
low, and upon the subject being freely discussed
among the sailors, one of them came forward
and said *' he knew where the flea came from ! '*
He had chanced to see H.R.H. the Prince of
Wales scratching the nose of the cow, of which
pastime H.R.H. was very fond. (A cow was
always kept on board the yacht to supply the
Royal Family and children with milk.) As her
Majesty seemed quite satisfied with this solution
of so dark a mystery, every one seemed to follow
suit. The flea, however, was never found, and
never heard of again.
One other short story and then my royal
149
My Memories
anecdotes are finished. Her Majesty, when on
a cruise, was always, of course, attended by a
medical man. A " Dr. Brown " was, I believe,
for years the favourite -<^sculapius. He was
not a young man, and the Queen and Prince
Consort were always gracious and cordial towards
him, often holding long interesting conversations
with him. The Princess Royal (the late Empress
Frederick), being a clever, witty, and moreover
an affectionate child, got much attached to the
doctor, whom she persisted in addressing in the
form of " Brown " pur et simple. The Queen
disapproved of this familiarity, and forbade it.
The gentleman was to be called " Dr. Brown "
by the little princess. The young lady, how-
ever, refused to obey, or rather, continued to
disobey, always saying familiarly whenever she saw
or met the doctor:
" Ah, Brown ! How d'ye do. Brown } "
At last the Queen got angry at this dis-
obedience to her wishes, and told the young lady
that the next time she broke her mother's
commands she should instantly be sent to bed.
The youthful Princess heard and thoroughly com-
prehended the threat, for the next morning
150
Early Court of Queen Victoria
that the doctor appeared the young lady called
out :
" Ah, Brown ! Good-morning, Brown. Glad
to see you. Brown ; but now I must also say good-
nighty Brown, for I'm going to bed, Brown 1 "
And to bed she went.
151
XII
MARRIAGE
1855
I. HOMBURG
On April 17, 1855,1117 sister Millicent and I
were married (for we had a double wedding). I
married my first cousin, the second Earl of
Munster ; my sister married Mr. Hay Erskine
Wemyss, of Wemyss Castle.
The day before our marriage, I remember, was
supposed to be a great day for England, for the
Emperor of the French, Napoleon III., came with
his lovely wife, the Empress Eugenie, to visit
Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace.
The royal visitors were to drive through London
en procession, and we went to a club in St. James'
Street to see them pass.
The crowd was most hearty in its welcome,
cheering and vociferating. The Empress looked
152
Marriage
delighted and smiled continuously, but one could
hardly see the Emperor's face, for he saluted the
whole time, and one saw only his moustache.
Directly after our marriage my husband and I
went abroad — to Homburg. In those days gam-
bling was allowed at Homburg, and I am afraid it
interested me more than it ought to have done.
In later years I have invariably hated it, but then
I actually gambled myself, and loved it. I
felt, I confess, ashamed of the action, but I could
never do things en cachette. Whatever I did, I
did openly. So I actually sat down at the rouge
et noir table and gambled, and won enough
money to pay our bill at the hotel. But my
" luck " did us but little good, for on getting
home to the hotel and asking for our footman we
were told he had " not come in yet." The next
morning he waited at breakfast^ but soon dis-
appeared. Then we rang and rang, and the waiters
came and told us he had " gone out." We waited
and waited still, " thinking no evil," for the man
had been known by us for some time, but on a
hint from one of the waiters we began to look
about us, and to our utter horror we found that
the box in which we kept our money was clean
153
My Memories
gone, as well as the man ! We never heard of either
the man or the money again, and my husband was
too kind to think of trying to find the servant to
prosecute him.
After we had been at Homburg for some
weeks we wanted much to see the old schloss, in
which my mother and our aunts (for my husband
and I were first cousins) had spent many happy
hours. Upon applying for a permit we got a most
civil letter from the Grand Duke, who was then
In residence, saying that " he knew all about us,"
and (I may tell this now^ being old and worn out^
and ces beaux jours sont passes) he heard that I was
*' no mean representative of my beautiful aunts,
whom he knew well." He added that, '^although
he could not escort us himself, being old and weak,
if we wished to go over the schloss he would see
we had an attendant to show us everything, and
that refreshment should be there if we required
it."
We were, of course, much pleased, and settled
the day and hour. The next morning at twelve
o'clock we started. We were received by quite a
martial-looking individual, who took us all over the
old castle, and in one of the best bedrooms we
154
Marriage
came across a portrait of one of my aunts (Amelia,
Lady Falkland).
We both of us remarked that whenever we went
into a fresh room our guide used carefully to close
one half of the door and leave the other open.
All the doors were two-leaved. After we got home
I wrote and thanked the Grand Duke for his kind-
ness in making everything so easy for us, and I got
a kind answer, I heard from one of the Grand
Duke's gentlemen that his Grand Ducal Highness
had wanted much to see me, and yet was too shy (!)
to come and speak to us. But he had been " so
much pleased by the lady's appearance that he had
hidden behind almost every door to see her go
by ! " I need not say that I was much flattered
and amused.
During our stay at Homburg there was the most
terrible thunderstorm I ever remember before or
since. In the same hotel in which we were staying,
Lady Elizabeth Dawson, an old lady of the
Catholic Apostolic persuasion, was staying also.
The storm was in the middle of the night. She
jumped out of her bed, lit a candle, and rushed
all over the hotel, opening the doors of the
terrified occupants' rooms, and calling to them,
15s
My Memories
*' Christ is at hand," which blessed event did not
take place.
While we were there, several famous folk came
to Homburg, amongst them the Duke and Duchess
of Schleswig-Holstein Augustenburg (Prince Chris-
tian's father and mother), Prince Christian, and
three daughters. The Duke was a fine-looking
old man, and reminded me instantly of old King
Ernest of Hanover. Upon my saying so, it was
overheard and repeated to him. It seemed that
his great admiration had been for King Ernest, and
his great object in life had been to imitate him. So
my words delighted him, and forthwith he desired
that I should be presented to him, and presented I
was. We saw a good deal of the family, my dear
husband walking out with Prince Christian almost
every day, little knowing that he would some day
marry one of our princesses — Princess Helena.
One day the Duchess of Augustenburg, who was
a beautiful old lady, with grey hair and charming
manners, sent for me, and asked me to chaperon
her daughters, who wished to attend the band.
She herself was ill and could not go. So I did. I
got to know two of the Princesses pretty well, and
when the day came for us to leave they seemed to
156
Marriage
regret our departure very much. I have hardly
ever seen them since.
II. GREAT MALVERN
Soon after the birth of my first dear child, we
went to Great Malvern for a change. It was, and
is, a lovely place, for its " everlasting hills " have
not changed. At the time we were there a most
weird-looking man used (literally) to crawl all
over the hills singing hymns ! We could hear
his stentorian voice at all hours, and never in the
same place, but always somewhere in the hills^
where he was not seen. His voice was beautiful^
like the bass stop of an organ. They said that he
was not quite right in his mind. He was always
in rags, but never begged, and used to sing all day
long. I never heard his history, except that people
said he was religiously mad, which, after all, is not
saying much against him.
Another thing amused me much. Great Mal-
vern, although then called " Great " was small to
what it is now, and I used to be out walking all
day long with my baby and the nurse. I was afraid
that my powers of endurance rather taxed those
of the poor nurse, so every evening, at about five
157
My Memories
o'clock, I used to take her with the baby to a
sort of "Gunter's," where we had tea, little
cakes, ices, &c. One afternoon we had gone in as
usual for our little meal, and just as we were
coming out I noticed that quite a crowd had
collected round the exit. I waited a little, hoping
the mob (for it was literally a mob) would disperse
before we left, but finding that the number of
" inquisitives " only got larger, and was rather
unpleasant, I went into an inner room and asked
the master of the shop what the people were
waiting for.
He civilly went out, and I saw him questioning
a man, but the crowd did not budge an inch. So
when he came back I begged him to let us out by
a back door, which he did, and thereupon explained
the cause of the crowd. He laughed and said that
one of the women had told him that she and
others had been told that there was a monster baby
in the shop, and that she and all of the crowd were
waiting to see it come out ! — (a play, of course, on
the name of Munster). I escaped out the other
side with my " monster baby," and got safely
home.
158
XIII
A TRUE GHOST STORY
M Y last reminiscence will be of a ghost story, for
which I can vouch the truth.
My sister Millicent (who, as I have said, married
Mr. Hay Erskine Wemyss, of Wemyss Castle)
herself told me the story.
There was a large party staying at Wemyss
Castle for Christmas, and my sister had arranged
some theatricals for Christmas evening for the
amusement of her guests. She had driven out to
Kirkcaldy, the nearest town in those days, to pur-
chase several requisites for the evening's amuse-
ment, and had not returned when what I am
about to relate took place.
I ought to have begun by stating that "the ghost"
of Wemyss Castle was always styled " Green
Jean," and was supposed to appear in the form
of a beautiful, tall, slim lady, clad in a long gown
159
My Memories
of green that " swished " very much as she walked,
or rather glided^ by. No one seemed to know
her history, or, at all events, it was a subject which
was avoided.
But to my story.
Everything had been prepared for the theatri-
cals, which were to take place in a large room,
which was then used as the dining-room. A
stage had been placed at the further end, and a
curtain was hung in readiness. It must be noted
that there was a small room which led from the
stage, its door being in front of the curtain and
within view of everybody. This door was kept
shut^ the room being generally used by the butler
to keep glasses, &c,, in. At the time it was per-
fectly empty.
On the afternoon in question, two girls, my
sister's eldest daughter and a girl friend, were
sitting over the fire. It was a cold, wet after-
noon, and though it was late, except for the fire,
which was a roaring one in an enormous fire-
place, there was no light ; the room was shut up
and the candles were not yet lit.
My niece and her friend were talking over the
coming theatricals. Nothing could be heard
160
A True Ghost Story
but their two voices, and the violent rain which
was pouring against the window. Suddenly, a
rustling sound smote their ears, as if coming from
the stage. They looked up ; the curtain, however,
remained down. But presently it was gently pushed
aside to make room for the entry of a tall, pale-
looking lady dressed in green, who held a sort of
Egyptian lamp (lit).
The lady took no notice of either of the girls,
but, holding the lamp well in front of her, she
walked calmly (her long gown " swishing " after
her as she went) up to the door, before mentioned,
in front of the curtain. She opened it, passed
into the room, and closed it noiselessly. My
niece was much excited. She sprang to the door,
and taking the handle in her hand called out to
her companion, " Get a candle quickly ; there is
no way out of the room into which she has gone,
and it is quite dark." The other girl hurriedly
brought a light and ran to the door. They
opened it. It was pitch dark — no sign of the Green
Lady. To their amazement she had disappeared
into space.
Not long after my sister's carriage was heard
driving up to the door. The two girls rushed out
i6i i,
My Memories
to meet her, and told her, " We have seen * Green
Jean ! ' " My sister knew the effect such a report
might have upon the visitors and the servants,
and that it might alarm the latter so much as to
spoil the arrangements and the pleasures of the
evening. She was not the person herself to be
alarmed at a ghost, but she feared the effects of
such a report upon others, so the story was hushed
up.
Not long after my sister, herself, saw the
Green Lady. But to relate this, I must state
that my sister's sitting-room, in which she always
sat and wrote her private letters, donne-ed on the
sea, into which you could easily throw a stone
from the window. The door of this room was
at the end of a long gallery, upon which the doors
of several rooms opened. The next room to my
sister's sitting-room was her son's sitting-room,
in which he transacted all business, and that room
led into his bedroom. All the doors of these
rooms opened on a gallery, which looked out
(or used to do so — for I have not been at Wemyss
Castle for many years) on to a court-yard with a
plot of grass in the middle.
On the evening of the event 1 am about to
162
A True Ghost Story
relate, it was, as often is the case in bonnie
Scotland, a pouring wet night. My sister's son
had been out riding most of the day, and he being
at that time rather delicate-chested, his mother was
anxious that he should come home.
Suddenly she heard the door-bell ring, and then
her son's hasty footsteps into his sitting-room,
and thence to his bedroom. Feeling much
relieved, and knowing a young man's dislike to
espionage, even as regards his health, she waited
quietly in her sitting-room. In about half an
hour's time, hearing no more, she put her
head into his sitting-room, and walked through
into his bedroom, which was lit by gas. Seeing
that his wet clothes were all lying on the ground
she was satisfied, and made good her way out on
to the gallery, when, to her surprise, she saw,
about twenty yards off, coming towards her along
the gallery, a tall lady in green ! Although the
house was full of guests, my sister could not con-
ceive for a moment who this lady could be, for
it was some one she had never seen before.
The lady walked in a slow, dignified fashion,
and seemed in no way put out at seeing another
person on the gallery. For a moment my sister
163
My Memories
stared in astonishment, but in a flash she felt who
it was I
" It is ' Green Jean/ " she said to herself, " and
I shall wait till she comes up to me, and then I
shall walk by her side, and see what she will
say." She waited. " Green Jean " joined her,
hut turned her head away ! My sister moved on
by her side, but, as she afterwards told me, she felt
tongue-tied. The figure accompanied her to the end
of the gallery, and then — was gone !
My sister felt, I think, annoyed with herself
for not have done or said something. But when
afterwards some one rebuked her for her faint-
heartedness, she said truly, " I walked by her the
whole length of the gallery, and I don't think there
are many who would have done that — but speak,
/ could noty
That is the end of the story.
One other small circumstance I recall, also of
Castle Wemyss. That, however, happened years
before the appearance of the Green Lady.
My sister was going to have a baby. She had
been suffering a good deal from many causes, and
one was that her husband, Hay Wemyss, was in a
very bad state of health. His sister, Fanny
164
A True Ghost Story
Balfour (since dead), told me the story. Poor
Millicent had gone to bed, and Hay and his
sister were talking about going to London, which
they were about to do in a day or two. They
were looking out of one of the windows which
had a lovely view, and some terraces had lately
been built going down towards the sea. The
moon was shining brightly, and Hay said to his
sister that he felt very ill. As they spoke
together there was a crash, and part of one of the
terraces smashed and fell. He turned to Fanny
and said, " I am a dead man 1 for as a warning
to the owner of Wemyss Castle of his early ap-
proaching death a piece of masonry always falls ! "
Fanny tried to laugh him out of the idea, but he
would say and hear no more. In a few days they
went to London, and Hay Wemyss of Wemyss
Castle died a fortnight before his youngest son was
born !
.65
i
L'ENVOI
Now I have finished my reminiscences and my
little stories, and I pray my readers to read them
indulgently, for I am too old to write any others,
and should never have been able to *' screw "
myself " up to the sticking-point " had it not been
for the encouragement I have received from
others.
Dear readers ! Farewell !
Brighton,
Dec. 31, 1903.
166
BOOK II
MISCELLANIES
K
TRUE REFINEMENT
And now, having written my recollections oi facts,
I should like, dear readers, to jot down some of
my thoughts on miscellaneous subjects which have
come to me during past years. I am an old
woman now, and men and manners have sadly
changed since the days I have recorded of my
youth. Yet now, as then, it is true that " manners
makyth man."
Good manners are the outcome of true refine-
jnent. I use the word in its highest sense, for
this is a subject on which I feel strongly. Few
words are so often misunderstood, and therefore
misapplied, as those of " vulgarity " and " refine-
ment."
I am not learned enough to trace these words
to their root, but from the fact that I so fre-
quently hear different meanings applied to them,
169
Miscellanies
I fancy they have, like many others, insensibly
undergone changes of meaning — changes which
modify and qualify — till finally they mystify.
Some individuals consider the words " vul-
garity " and " indecency " as synonymous ; others
use the expression " vulgar " when describing the
common things of every-day life, such as the
vulgar tongue or the *' vulgar" (i.e., common)
use of a thing ; but the " vulgarity " to which I
would draw attention, both as to the word and
its sentiment, is a something almost indescribable;
for although its influence is scarcely felt by some,
it is seen at a glance by others — by the so-called
grand monde — and branded by them with the mark
of infamy far more damning in their eyes than
many a crying sin ; while its opposite, the " re-
finement," indispensable to an accepted member
of that same dread brotherhood, le grand monde, is
an attribute so shrouded in mystery, so disguised,
so exactly, at times, counterfeiting its reverse,
that those unhappy persons whose one grand (!)
aim in life is to obtain a footing on the mountain
heights of fashion are for ever being caught in
one or other of these two traps — refined vulgarity
or vulgar refinement — so ingeniously covered
170
True Refinement
by the hidden meshes of society as to be (to them)
indiscernible.
How often one hears it said, in high society,
'* Oh, yes ! they are nice, kind, charitable, worthy
people ; but not ' quite quite ' — in fact, second-
rate — vulgar, you know ! " And you feel you do
know, although you cannot explain, that there is
a. je ne sais quoi about the criticised person ;
perhaps only an air, an atmosphere, but that the
criticism is nevertheless a truth. A truth, yes !
But one which I venture to assert is so often
ungenerously, unfairly, pressed as to become first
cousin to a fallacy.
We all know the poet's words :
A lie which is half a lie is ever the blackest of lies.
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought
with outright,
But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to
fight.
In like way, a truth which has an alloy of
secret falseness in its formation is difficult, very
difficult, to combat.
But what about real vulgarity when it is openly
dressed up, and boldly takes the name and place
of refinement } And what about true refinement
171
Miscellanies
when it is openly hustled and bustled out of the
way and called vulgarity ?
Would one not have thought that such a
frankly impudent substitution, such an act of
candid imposture enacted under our very eyes,
would require nought but its own refutation ?
But, alas ! for the gullibility of human nature.
Alas ! for the length of human nature's nose, for
the strength of the leading-strings attached by
Dame Fashion to that olfactory organ. For it is
sadly and strangely true that, nolens volens^ we
gradually become so used to the truth composed
largely of lies, and to the lies composed largely of
truth, that at last we cry out lamentably, and in
a hopeless state of muddle, " Sirs, which is
which ? "
We have a theory that no real truth exists but
that we may find its counterpart or its suggestion
in that blessed book the Bible, the inspiration of
which so many clever fools and foolish clever
men are nowadays calling in question.
Now, if we honestly search its pages, we shall
invariably find a guiding word — one, too, of pro-
foundest common sense — upon the humblest sub-
jects, and we think that in the very matter before
172
True Refinement
us we may, without pushing the question too far,
find some suggestive thoughts. For instance, we
are told in the Old Testament of two great emer-
gencies in which choice was made between men
who drank after a certain fashion and of others
who pronounced a given word correctly or the
reverse.
Now these two instances prove, at all events
without straining the hypothesis too far, that
even in those early days the acts of drinking and
of pronouncing words did not " go for nothing,"
and I trust I shall not be considered flippant
or irreverent for having mentioned these two
facts. To this day, two amongst the greatest
tests ot vulgarity or refinement in individuals
are their methods of feeding themselves and the
pronunciation of their words.
How often we come across persons whose
eating and drinking are a pain and offence to
us, and so utterly objectionable that we prefer
turning our eyes away during the process, and
would gladly shut them altogether if we dared }
What on earth so discomposing as a man or a
woman who, with strong, cruel teeth, munches
some hard, croquant substance so openly (literally
173
Miscellanies
so at times) and so noisily that not only your
eyes — this time — but your ears also are offended,
making you long to cork them up ; or, better
still, to muzzle your friend — so much more
offensively guilty than the poor dogs that are
muzzled.
Another individual will talk with his mouth so
distended by food, which for conversational con-
venience he stows away in some mysterious re-
ceptacle which he apparently possesses somewhere
mside his cheeks, that he reminds one of some
wild beast surprised during its meal, the principal
difference in the likeness being that whereas the
wild beast would probably run away, the other
individual, alas ! doesn*t.
Oh ! there are so many objectionable tricks
during meals. For instance, how inexcusable are
people's different modes of imbibing tea or coffee,
with noisy gratification ; generally, too, at break-
fast, just at the moment when the best of us feel
" short in the temper." Soup, too, at dinner is a
most active source of provocation.
I have heard, as no doubt my readers have also,
that Lord Byron positively refused to be a party
to the transaction when his admiration-of-the-
174
True Refinement
moment's feeding-time supervened — and I cannot
blame him ; for many years ago, in Paris, I was
dining at the house of an old English couple,
Mr. and Mrs. Tudor — dead long ago — who
piqued themselves upon collecting celebrities at
their board, and did not stop to inquire too
closely into the origin of their guests' fame, so
long as it was undeniably very repandu. During
the entertainment I remarked a lady sitting op-
posite. She was very much "in the sere and
yellow leaf," but with the remains of great beauty
— a beauty which, of course, was now much
patched and mended up. She possessed, how-
ever, most lovely teeth — evidently all her
own (not by right of purchase) — and she wore
white, ill-fitting kid gloves, which she did not
remove.
I was first struck (not attracted) by noticing
that with her gloved fingers she was pursuing a
piece of bread which persistently eluded her grasp,
drowning itself in the gravy on her plate.
The crumb was obstinate, the lady more so,
and at last she captured the dripping morsel,
carrying it to her lips and devouring it with
much gusto. Not being over-anxious to behold
175
Miscellanies
the lady's method of cleansing her kid fingers, 1
turned away.
" Who is that lady ? " I asked with a shudder
of my next-door neighbour.
" Oh ! that is the Contessa ," was the
no less shuddering reply of a young English
attache. " She was Byron's great admiration,
and oh ! " added the young man, " do look at
her now ! "
I obeyed. She was using her fork — well, not
to eat with. And at that moment two great
mysteries were solved in my mind : one, why the
countess's teeth were so well preserved ; and the
other, why Lord Byron declined to see his fair
enslaver eat.
So much for refinement or the reverse in the
methods of eating or drinking.
Now, concerning the pronunciation of words
and of certain expressions whereby you know for
a fact whether the speaker is a Shibbolethite or a
Sibbolethite — i.e.^ whether or not the creme de la
crime would dub him " vulgar."
The pronunciation of the word " girl " is a
shibboleth — />., a test. The higher classes pro-
nounce it as though it were spelt " gairl," whereas
176
True Refinement
the Sibboleths pronounce it as if it were spelt
" purl," or as it is written — " girl." Another
word is " clerk," and there are many others ; but
I fear to prove wearisome, so I will go on to
certain expressions which unmistakably proclaim
themselves.
For instance, you meet a happy prospective
bride or bridegroom who rushes up to you and
informs you with beaming eyes that he or she is
" going to get married," instead of " going to be
married." These words are a great test, and
nothing amazes one so much as the frequent
recurrence of this hateful expression in novels,
written by authors who ought to know better,
and whose English is generally irreproachable.
Then what more grating to one's feelings than
to hear of people " riding in their carriages,"
instead of " driving " ; calling articles of food
" beautiful "—" beautiful beef," '' beautiful tea,"
or " a beautiful cook," &c. &c.
These and hosts of other expressions are under-
stood by Shibbolethites, but are a mystery to Sib-
bolethites and foreigners.
Now these signs of Sibbolethism the crime de la
crime call " vulgar," and they certainly are
177 M
Miscellanies
" second-rate." But we venture to think that in
these matters fashion strains at gnats and
swallows camels, and that there are many worse
vulgarities than these before-mentioned ones,
which are tolerated, encouraged, and finally
accepted.
For instance, what more detestable, more
coarsely vulgar, than the jargon of the present day
called " slang " indulged in by women and girls of
all classes ^ What is more hurtful to the English
language, and to every sense of reverence and
refinement ^ What about that hateful word
" ripping," opening up^ as it does, such unpleasant,
disgusting thoughts }
Then the word "awful." I scarcely have
the patience necessary to remind the silly women,
who can hardly open their mouths without using
it, how the expression is utilised in Holy Writ.
" Awful is His name." And yet I hear people,
calling themselves " ladies" (who are ladies, too),
gabbling about a thing being " awfully jolly," or
" an awfully nice little chap ! " &c. &c. Oh !
what can we say to the prostitution of such a
word }
I confess to being old-fashioned, and when I
178
True Refinement
hear the conversation around me, abounding in
words that I do not even understand, I am proud
of being so. And I strive to protect those young
ones nearest and dearest to me from the infection
of such a plague ; and oh ! the difficulty of it ; for
after some minutes of, as I think, exhaustive
reasoning with them, telling them that " slang is
un-English," incompatible with true refinement
or womanly dignity, &c., I end by saying most
impressively, " Besides^ it is so awfully snobbish ! "
thus discovering, to my horror, that I myself
have caught the disease ! Is slang, then, not "vul-
gar " ? I ask. " No ! " I am boldly told ; " it is
the fashion ! "
Then I groan a helpless, obsolete groan, and
whisper, " Oh ! that over-bearing monster —
Fashion ! "
Once more, what is more painful to one's feel-
ings of womanly respect than the sight of the
manly young women one meets, with their shirts,
ties, pins, waistcoats, covert-coats, and those flat
abominations they wear on their heads made of
some deer-stalking, home-spun material ^ Is not
that " vulgar " ^ And yet these do not seem to be
the individuals the world considers so.
179
Miscellanies
Who, then, are the really " vulgar " ? Is it
that red-faced, fat, ill-dressed, second-rate-looking
female of rather noisy exterior ? The world
would say " Yes." I say *' No," for she has no
" swagger " about her, is neither self-asserting nor
self-conscious ; besides, I heard her accost a man (?)
who was ill-using his patient, over-worked,
crooked-legged horse, asking him, " Did he know
how brutally he was taking advantage of a creature
totally at his mercy, dumb, too, and unable to
testify to his inhumanity, except by the wheals
made by the cruel whip upon its poor back and
panting sides ? " And " Did he remember that
that unfortunate beast was a trust he would have
to answer for to the merciful Giver of Life to
all ? "
No ! that woman is not really "vulgar," for
she has a chivalrous nature, and thoroughly
understands the delicacy of feeling of Him who
forbade both the " seething of a kid in its
mother's milk, and that the oxen should be
muzzled that were treading out the corn."
The " vulgarity " that that woman presents to
the shuddering world is superficial ; her heart is
gold — at present ! for wait — and alas ! in a little
I So
True Refinement
you may find her (or some one like her) very
different to what she originally was, for by some
stroke of fortune she has become enormously
rich ; she rises in the world, buys a " place " at a
convenient distance from London, with a large
garden, may be full of wonderful fruit, or with
some hitherto unheard-of tree or flower — I
remember a green rose once which '* did it ! " —
which the grand monde rushes to see ! The
visitors are impressed by the luxury of the house
and general establishment of their hitherto obscure
host, telling of heafs of money. Little by
little our fat friend is first tolerated in society,
then eagerly " received " and probably " pre-
sented " ; her head is weak and gets turned ; she
loses her simple nature (her only real charm),
becomes ashamed of her antecedents, hatches a
pedigree instead of {vice versa a fordinaire) the
pedigree hatching her ! And now she is really
" vulgar."
She now takes a house in London, gives great
dinners where things are eaten and drunk that she
never heard of before. Now her " vulgarity "
is good-naturedly laughed at, her pronunciation
called " quaint." All the great world comes to
i8i
Miscellanies
her balls and parties ; then, one day, there is a
smash ! Her husband (who has not perhaps
enjoyed the change as much as she has, but has
every now and then, rubbed his head irritably,
and ditto his nose, telling his wife she is " spend-
ing a power of money ") informs her with a pale
face that they are ruined, or nearly so ; that they
must return from whence they came — to ob-
scurity ! They do so, but she never returns to
what she was before. Her innocent natural
nature is gone. And oh ! how difficult it is to
settle down again into a nobody !
And how many of her great friends will follow
— stick to her in her poverty, and try to comfort
her?
Thank God, some do. Some never forget, and
are grateful for the pleasures she once provided
for them.
But, once more, let me try to answer the ques-
tion, Who are the really " vulgar " }
Is it the obscure pale governess who grinds out
knowledge all the weary day, refusing herself all
hard-earned comforts for the sake of the sick
mother at home .? Or, is it her employer, who
considers Miss Watson good enough to teach and
True Refinement
guide her children, but not good enough to be
her own friend ? Or, on the other hand, is it the
governess who refuses to carry a weary child's
doll or hoop, for fear she should " be taken for a
nurse " ?
But a truce to all these real and wretched vul-
garities. Let me state briefly what, in my
opinion, a true lady is, or is not.
She is never self-asserting, never remarkable,
unless God should have bestowed great beauty
upon her, which, of course, cannot be hid.
One of her principal characteristics is tender-
ness and sensitiveness for the feelings of others.
She has intuitive tact, eyes to see all, and eve-lids,
when necessary, to see nothing. She is slow to
put herself forward, but ready, when called upon,
boldly to protest against evil ; hating the sin, she
is full of mercy and loving pity for the sinners,
never ashamed of associating with them or with
(what the world hates more) the vulgar, if she
can do them good, for she remembers she
might have been either, or both, herself.
She is perfectly satisfied to do her best exactly
in the position in which God has placed her, be it
humble or the reverse, never striving to get
1^3
Miscellanies
socially higher. She is never ashamed of an un-
fashionable friend, or a poor relation, being as
courteous and scrupulously the same everywhere
and every when. She cares nothing for the sneer
nor for the mocking smile of '* the world " when
she kisses an ill-dressed, gawky, frightened girl,
or when she gives a hearty welcome to Mr. and
Mrs. Snooks from the country, who toddle into
her pretty drawing-room, arm-in-arm^ and who
are innocently delighted to see her, and not a
whit more ashamed at being Snooks than she is
of being Lady .
Ah ! alas and alas for old England !
Why are there so many Radicals, Socialists, &c.
Is it all from political differences, or is it also
that the rich and great have not sufficiently
studied tolerance and good-fellowship with the
less well-born, less well-bred than themselves }
Have they sufficiently " condescended to the men
of low estate," as the Bible commands, or have
they put the condescension offensively forward ^.
Why not follow the gentle footsteps of the
highest lady in the land .''
Or, go higher still. Who was "meek and
lowly " .^ Who marks each sparrow that falls }
1 8+
True Refinement
Who neither strove nor cried, nor let His voice
be heard in the streets ? Who loved and wept
with Mary and Martha ? Who dined with
publicans and sinners ? Who took little children
in His arms ? And when He did all these things
was He a whit the less " The King of Kings, and
the Lord of Lords ? "
i8s
II
THE SERVANT QUESTION
Such mistress
Such Nan,
Such master
Such man.
J. JUSSER, I515-I580.
I WOULD fain write down next a few thoughts upon
a subject which nowadays comes often to the fore —
a subject also upon which greatly depend the hap-
piness and comfort of home. I allude to the
question of the rights and wrongs of masters and
servants, and of their generally strained attitude
towards one another, and I use the word "attitude"
advisedly, for I cannot but believe that in many
instances beneath the said "attitude " much more
kindliness lurks than is visible.
I begin by assuring my readers that I wish to
write very humbly, and by no means would I
venture to " lay down the law " offensively, being
186
The Servant Question
quite aware that my view of the subject will
probably appear to others too highly coloured, and
even tinged with an element of absurdity ; but all
the same, and although I may be laying myself
open to the ridicule of those who disagree with
me, I beg them to have a little patience with me
and my opinions, and not to condemn me and
them unheard. I would also exonerate myself
from the charge of wishing to " preach " ; that is
not my object. 1 would only seek to persuade my
readers that my notion as to how to govern a
household — Utopian as it may appear — would, if
feasible, " cut both ways," by not only raising the
tone of service, but by also ensuring that service
being better rendered.
At present I have only taken one side of the
question — /.«?., the duty of masters to their
servants — and I hope, ere long, to say something
upon the duties of servants to their masters, and
I humbly trust that I may not, before I have
finished, in consequence of my clumsy treatment
of the subject, force my readers to the conclusion
(as regards both masters and servants) arrived at
by Lord Byron, under different circumstances of
course, when he used those pregnant words :
187
Miscellanies
Arcades ambo
id est
Blackguards both !
To begin, then, upon the master's duties to his
servants.
In what do they consist ?
It seems to me that the answer to this question
lies in the traditional nutshell, which, however,
has become so hardened by custom, fashion, and
time, that it is a very tough one to crack, for the
said nutshell is called " religion " ; but true heart-
religion^ in contradistinction to that worldly
imitation of it, which, though eminently respect-
able and even right as far as it goes (and how
much worse things would be without it !), cannot
get far enough to pierce the nut, within which lie
curled up some most valuable mottoes, such as,
" Let brotherly love continue," and " Be ye kindly
affectioned one towards another, with brotherly
love," &c., ad libitum. After all, we are all
brothers ! (In some families, however, this might
not be a recommendation.) We have all the same
hopes, fears, difficulties, joys, sorrows, and relation-
ships, be we masters or servants. I do not,
however, say this in a democratic spirit, for no one
i88
The Servant Question
holds more firmly than I that distinctions in
position are God's making and must hold good ;
but I also remember that the Lord Jesus left His
kingdom above, and " took upon Him the form of
a servant," thus for ever consecrating and hallow-
ing both service and a dependent position.
All our households are undoubtedly supposed
to be " Christian," are they not ? But unfortun-
ately that designation has had some other mean-
ings besides its original one tacked on to it. For
instance, I heard not long since of a very smart
lady having been highly provoked by one of her
footmen, v/ho had (very wrongly, as he had
thereby neglected a duty) omitted to powder his
head till too late in the day. The lady was very
indignant and was heard to say, " Really, that
man is not like a Christian, for he doesn't know
what's what. Bid you see him appearing as he
did when Lady So-and-So called .^ His head was
brown, while all the others were white." In this
case the word " Christian" stood for "civilised"
or " smart."
Another meaning to the word, with which I
have more sympathy, although it generally stirs
up an indignant and contemptuous enmity in the
1S9
Miscellanies
hearts of those who hear it, is when " a Christian
family " is spoken of. These words seem at once
to conjure up in everybody's mind a family of big
bonnets, pale faces, and ill-made gowns — a family
of depressed-looking individuals who "think every-
thing is wrong " (so people say), who sing hymns
all day, and read and distribute tracts. 'This is the
normal idea of a "Christian family," but neither this
meaning nor the former one in the least explain
my reading of the word " Christian," for when I
use it, I have in mind a principle — an atmosphere —
which should pervade the household and prevail
in the heart of the master towards his dependants.
This kindly feeling is. however, alas ! not gene-
rally acknowledged or even thought of, excepting
sometimes in isolated cases of very old servants or
retainers in the family ; it is not dealt out, as it
should be, to the servants en bloc — it would be
considered supererogatory and far too sentimental.
But, all the same, I would venture to suggest that
" supposing and supposing," as the children say,
for the sake of argument, that this sort of Chris-
tianity were feasible, would it not be something
gained on both sides if the master and the
servants, though still retaining their relative
190
The Servant Question
positions, should bear one another a living affec-
tion, which would naturally engender a commu-
nity of interest ? Of course, after all these many
years of custom's and fashion's rule there would
be difficulties in working out the system, and
indeed it could not be done unless this spiritual
" heart-religion " of which I speak were the active
agent — unless, in fact, the masters and those
dependent on them " love one another."
See what the sweet, musical Scotch poet says :
In peace Love tunes the shepherd's reed,
In war he mounts the warrior's steed,
In halls in gay attire is seen,
In hamlets dances on the green.
Love rules the Court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above,
For Love is Heaven, and Heaven is — Love.
Walter Scott's " Lay of the Last Minstrel."
From my youth up I was taught by a beloved
and noble-minded Mother that our servants never
become less loyal to their duty in consequence of
their being treated " as though they were flesh
and blood like ourselves." "Show your servants,"
she would say, " that you care for them outside
their service. Constitute yourself their kind
friend in their troubles, and their sympathiser in
191
Miscellanies
their joys, and you won't get your china more
broken or your confidence more abused." Of
course there are black sheep everywhere, but they
are not more likely to whiten themselves because
they are kindly treated.
"Do you ever think," my Mother used to say,
** how hard it must be to be working for others
every day and all day long?''''
And again I can hear her say, *' You know,
my dear, that servants dare to have fathers and
mothers and relations as we have, and these
relations of theirs occasionally dare to be ill as
ours do ; and even at times they have the impu-
dence to die. Again, my pretty maid actually
has a lover — as I had once — and where's the
harm '^, I'll tell you. It is when the rules of the
house prevent her meeting him, and she runs
surreptitiously round the corner to see him.
That's how the mischief generally begins.
Manage right and fair times for them to meet
openly and respectably. Judicious kindness, my
dear, is the pivot upon which home comfort turns,
and without it your servants will serve you with-
out any interest, except that which they get from
the tradesmen."
192
The Servant Question
So much for my dear Mother's logic.
But now let us take a step higher. Let us
turn on the searchlight of that old-fashioned but
blessed book of "wisdom which cometh from
above," the Bible, and let us learn from its plain
words, its silences, or its references — all equally
teaching to those who care to learn — what it says
upon the subject. People have often said to me,
"It is little less than blasphemy to suppose God
will trouble Himself about such insignificant
things as a household, as to whether the meat be
fairly weighed, or the butler honest about the
wine." But my answer is : " You forget what He
says about the sparrow that falls, and about the
hairs of your head." Nothing is great, nothing is
small to God, and from a child it always gave me
a grander idea of Him when I remembered. He is
God of the microscope, as well as of the sun,
moon and stars (and of those terrible distances the
very thought of which turns the astronomer's
brain), for He is also the Creator of creatures
and things so infinitesimally small that our eyes
cannot even discern them. Yet He guides
them. Oh ! be sure if we care for His guidance
in our household, He will not refuse it, and we
193 ^
Miscellanies
shall hear His voice. " This is the way, walk ye
in it."
It is helpful also, in connection with the duty
we owe our servants, and the difficulty of ful-
filling it, to remember that one grand lesson is
plainly taught about it in the Old Testament.
The servants there^ we are told, used to address
their master as " father" ; and in the interesting
story of Naaman the Leper, we see that his re-
covery from that dreadful plague was mainly due
to the love and anxiety of his servants.
A little maid — a captive, we read — spoke to
her mistress ; and Naaman's own servants, calling
him " father," argued with him when he seemed
unwilling to obey the Prophet, and prevailed.
We guess, too, by the narrative that a real,
warm affection must have subsisted between these
servants and their master ; the little maid's ex-
pression, " Would to God ! " manifests how very
near to her heart was the recovery of her master ;
while Naaman's other servants — men, we have
every reason to suppose — being grieved at his
apparent unwillingness, from a foolish pride, to act,
reasoned with him as sons. He listened and was
cured.
194
The Servant Question
Of course we know that nowadays manners
are changed, and if the cook were to call his
master " father " he would be relegated at once
to the mad-house ! But, all the same, the teaching
we get in the Bible on the matter is that mutual
affection is the chord to which our household
arrangements should be attuned.
Another few words and I have done. To me
a painful proof of the utter insensibility of the
generality of masters to the fact that their servants
have the feelings common to all men is the
astounding want of delicacy often evinced by those
who ought to (and do) know better in the subjects
of conversation chosen and discussed at meals
before the servants, of whose presence no account
seems taken any more than if they did not exist.
The characters that are laughed away, the anec-
dotes that are repeated — evidently the servants
who are present being accounted as nonentities,
which in itself must be sufficiently galling ; but
when it comes, as it often does, to the ridicule, the
sneering allusions — and worse — which are often
levelled at the very class from which our servants
spring, it must be intensely insulting. And I
often think what an amount of self-restraint these
195
Miscellanies
servants exercise who stand behind our chairs;
probably boiling over with rage, and yet do not
ever damage a lady's smart gown or a gentleman's
coat by " accidentally " upsetting over them the
lobster sauce or champagne cup ! I really do not
think, if I were in their place, that I should be
quite as Christianlike and self-denying ! When
we think, too, how strong within ourselves is the
sense of " class," and how we should resent any
disparaging allusion to our own, or to our friends,
I repeat, I marvel at the few " accidents " which
occur during the waiting at dinner !
Surely, surely that high-bred and gentleman-
like delicacy of feeling which we, superiors in posi-
tion, claim as part of our heritage, should shrink
from speaking insultingly or even slightingly of
the very class from which our listening servants
have sprung. 1 am aware that many of these
social mistakes are blunders, and committed un-
wittingly, but when we think how anxious we are
to suit our conversation to any royal prince, or to
any guest with whom we wish to ingratiate our-
selves, could we not be equally careful, so as, if
possible, to avoid hurting the feelings of those
who cannot answer us at the time, and who are
196
The Servant Question
therefore comparatively helpless. And now I
really have done.
" And a good thing too ! " I hear some one
say, " after all the impossibilities and nonsense
you have been talking for the last hour ! So bad,
too, for the servants to hear ! "
" Impossibilities," alas ! my words may appear at
present, but " nonsense," no ! and if my sugges-
tions could only leave an influence behind them
just strong enough to tempt some of my kind-
hearted readers to follow the road I have en-
deavoured to point out — even part of the way —
I should be more than content.
197
Ill
ON BALLAD-SINGING
Governed by a strain
Of music, audible to him alone.
My object in writing on this subject is twofold.
First I would point out one or two reasons why,
in my humble opinion, one so rarely comes across
satisfactory amateur English ballad-singing ; and,
secondly, I would venture a few suggestions to
would-be ballad-singers.
I fear I shall not recommend myself when I
begin by saying that one of the most common
causes of failure in ballad-singing arises from
what is, for the moment, an insurmountable
difficulty to youthful singers, namely, that when
the voice is at its freshest and purest — in fact,
when it is young — the most requisite quality,
called " soul," must of necessity be generally
absent (or, at all events, very undeveloped) in
198
On Ballad-Singing
consequence of the performers' inexperience in
heart teachings.
A girl's voice may be sweet and true, and the
mechanical training be good, but the depths of
passionate feeling, indispensable to satisfactory
English ballad-singing, are not there, and prob-
ably may not come till the voice is many years
older.
Another constant reason of failure, but one
that is remediable, is the utilising of too much
ornamentation, too much fioritura. Poor
Madame Antoinette Sterling, who has so lately
gone to her rest, was an example of what I mean.
Oh ! if people would only take her simplicity as
their model !
I once knew a lady whose ballad-singing was a
" household word " (but I have not leave to
mention her name), and she one day long ago said
to me, " My dear, I haven't a run or a shake in
me — and never had ! " And I never heard her
attempt one ; but the beauty and pathos of her
ballads were entrancing.
Those privileged individuals who can call to
mind Mme. Dolby's singing will remember that
although she possessed runs and shakes to any
199
Miscellanies
amount, she rarely utilised them in her English
songs, and most certainly her voice and " style "
were as near perfection as anything this side the
grave.
Some of my readers may remember a lady who
made a great stir several (I may say, many) years
ago in the elite of the London musical world. I
allude to Mrs. Murray Gartshore. She was a
most satisfactory amateur, and those who ever
had the privilege of hearing her sing " Give
me back one hour of Scotland," or "Love me
if I live, love me if I die," will not have for-
gotten it.
Her voice was an ample mezzo-soprano, but
her deep notes were wonderful, having all the
richness and pathos of a real contralto.
She invariably sang without notes, and accom-
panied herself standing, for she said she could not
bring out her voice in a sitting posture.
She was not young when I first saw her, and
although far from handsome, there was an ex-
pression in her face as she sang which was very
remarkable, for one saw that her very soul went
out in her music, and that her thoughts were far
away — far beyona her momentary surroundings.
200
On Ballad -Singing
I recollect once hearing her sing a most touching
song, called " Love not " (the words written by
the famous Mrs. Norton). It was at a house in
Grosvenor Square. I forget who was the hostess,
but the drawing-room was crammed, and as the
last notes of the sweet voice died away every one
was discovered to be in tears. The universal
emotion would, probably, have lasted some
minutes had not a smothered and sepulchral
groan issued from the body of the room, appar-
ently coming from some agitated individual whose
face seemed buried in a pocket handkerchief.
Then a deep, manly voice uttered these oracular
words :
" Her dog ! Her dog ! Tell her to sing her
dog ! "
The speaker was old Lady Morley, a lady well
known for her sympathetic kindness of heart
and for the masculine depth of her tones. The
"dog song" for which she craved was a great
favourite with Mrs. Gartshore's hearers, but I
forget its title. It related most graphically
the rescue of a drowning man from the waves
by a dog, and on the occasion in question Mrs,
Gartshore, with her usual unaffected good-nature,
20I
Miscellanies
complied with Lady Morley's loudly expressed
wish.
I had never heard the " dog song " before, and
I never forgot it.
I listened, I remember, with breathless interest
as each word was simply and clearly enunciated,
and when,at the conclusion, Mrs. Gartshore's voice
joyfully rang out, " He is saved ! He is saved ! "
my feelings overcame me to such a degree that I
had to be hustled out of the room into a neigh-
bouring apartment to compose myself, for, being
somewhat young in years, I cried (as the children
call it) "out loud," and created quite a disturb-
ance.
I often heard Mrs. Gartshore sing afterwards,
and I do not think she liked me the less for my
unconventional sobs. Poor lady ! She is dead
now ; but I can see her still standing at her piano-
forte, weirdly pale, and looking straight before
her, as though she saw something unseen by the
bystanders.
She had a way also, after concluding a song, of
remaining erect and quite still, gazing, as it were,
through and beyond the room in which she was,
almost as if she were awaiting some long-expected
202
On Ballad-Singing
answer to her plaintive and passionate melodies ;
and it would be quite two or three moments
before she seemed to recollect herself. Then she
would turn with a smile to old Lord Lansdowne
and sink into a seat.
Lord Lansdowne (grandfather to the present
peer) was always to be seen sitting quite close to
Mrs. Gartshore's pianoforte when she sang, for he
was deaf ; and although he was ever regarded as
a hard and practical man, I have often seen him
belie his character, hanging upon that lady's
touching notes with tearful eyes.
To the youthful amateur I would now give a
few hints which may prove useful.
Above all things, when you sing, forget your-
self, and think only of the music, for singers for
effect are unbearable, and if you wish to please and
touch the hearts of your hearers you should sing
simply (without notes is best, and accompanying
yourself), and as naturally as you speak, both in
expression of face and in articulation. All un-
natural grimaces, either in the struggle to open
your mouth cufficiently or in the anxiety to
produce a fascinating (.?) expression, must be
strenuously avoided. A clear pronunciation, too,
203
Miscellanies
is most important, and most difficult in the English
language especially, for so many words almost
necessitate the closing of the lips, such as
"nymph," "lip," "moon," "bridge," "love,"
&c. ; but this difficulty will be obviated by a
sensible vocalist — one who has the tact to menager
such words. All tricks and affectations must be
shunned " as a sailor shuns the rocks," or they
will inevitably shipwreck the performer.
Some girls, who would not otherwise sing badly,
make themselves thoroughly objectionable through
tricks. I will cite one or two cases that have
come under my own observation.
I once knew a young girl who, whenever she
reached any especial passage to which she wished
to impart thrilling emphasis, would twist and
turn her body from side to side as though she
were in the very extremity of torture — a trick
which was inexpressibly aggravating.
Another would put on what, at starting, was
an affected smile, but which speedily resolved
itself into a painful grin — painful to others, as it
evidently was to herself, for it made one's very
jaws ache to watch her spasmodic efforts to keep
her mouth " in position," seeing that whatever she
204
On Ballad -Singing
chanced to be pouring forth — -words of tenderest
love, of direst hate, or of agonising jealousy — the
grin was ever the same ! No ; let us have no
tricks, no affectations, no grimaces ! 1 was cured
of *' making faces " by my singing-master, who
one day, in the midst of my song, hurriedly
placed a mirror before me, and I caught myself
looking so excruciatingly absurd, so painfully
ugly, that ever afterwards any good or bad looks
I possessed (at all events during my vocal efforts)
had the merit of being natural.
Sing as you really feel at the moment, and do
not " try to feel what you sing," as so many
well-meaning teachers conjure you to do. " Feel-
ing " will never come till it does so naturally,
and without trying ; and do believe me that all
travailU feeling is, like some old lady's wig in one
of Dickens' inimitable stories, " such a glaring
deception that it ceases to be one, and takes
nobody in."
Finally, dare I offer one hint (almost amount-
ing to a solemn warning) to some mature
amateurs ? I have humbly endeavoured, as far as
my feeble lights shine, to teach young performers
how to sing ; and now my anxiety is to teach
2oq
Miscellanies
old ones, or nearly old ones, how not to sing ; for
I know no more sorry sight or sound than that
of a poor lady with a cracked voice, or one who
will not allow that her voice has gone away and
left her.
To these aged sufferers, of whom I am one, I
would say, kindly but firmly, " Dear Mrs. Vorbei,
dear sister, be persuaded by me, and never sing
publicly again, no, not even en -petite comiti^ for
your voice is, speaking honestly, cracked — or, at
best, very uncertain — and disposed to play heartless
pranks upon you ; for when you open your mouth
to sing, curious husky noises, over which you have
no control, issue from your lips, distressing your
hearers much and yourself more, for they —
your hearers (the kind ones) — assure you what
you know is false — i.e.^ that your voice is "as
lovely as ever " — while the vulgar herd laughs, not
discerning that, to you, those husky sounds are
real and literal larmes dans la voix ; for no one but
the sufferer knows the bereavement it is when one's
voice is dead ! No, dear lady, have the courage to
confess yourself passee, and sing only when you are
alone, or perchance with some close friend (if you
have one you are not so much to be pitied as
206
On Ballad -Singing
some) who remembers what your voice was once, and
who prefers even its sad ghost — so suggestive of the
past — to the many discords (I speak advisedly)
called " music " of the present.
Ah 1 Tempo passage, perche non ritorne !
207
IV
A NOBLE LIFE
IN MEMORIAM
Mercy I ask'd,
Mercy I found.
W. Camden.
It has often been a source of surprise and pain to
me to notice how quickly, nay, entirely at times,
the memory of some good, noble man or woman
passes — flits away — and merging into the shadows
of the past hardly leaves any impress on the
shifting sand-shores of Time ! Nay, at times
their very names are forgotten, and oh ! so soon.
I am not, of course, alluding to " crowned
heads," or to " political characters," for they of
necessity become landmarks, but I am thinking of
humble individuals who, during their sojourn
here below, have only been benefactors to their
fellow creatures, or, may be, have only devoted
zo8
A Noble Life
themselves, and all they had, or were, to doing
good. Then, some day, I or some equally humble
person may start in hopes of finding these indi-
viduals, and lo ! their homes are there, but they
are not !
As I write this, I am especially referring, in my
own mind, to a dear, holy, unselfish woman, a
Jewess by birth. *' Oh ! " I hear my readers say.
" Yes," I answer ; " she was a Jewess, one of God's
chosen people, and a Christian as well, and in every
sense of the word ; indeed, one of God's most
holy saints."
I think that one of the greatest privileges of my
life has been that she should have used me as a
help, and as one of her most beloved friends.
Still, as I remarked above, although she slaved,
wept, and died in Brighton not twenty-five years
ago, her name of Fanny Murray Vicars is little
more now than " Solomon's misty cloud, quickly
dispersing beneath the beams of the deep noon-day
sun.
Mrs. Vicars has been dead many years. She was
the head and the sole originator of that touching
institution, "The Brighton Home for Female
Penitents.'*
209 o
Miscellanies
She was the daughter (there were several) of a
well-known and respected rabbi. He was a
rich and a good man, but was never converted to
Christianity- He loved his daughter Fanny, and
left her a large sum of money, which she gave up
entirely to Christ and her Christian work, as far as
was in her power, for of course her change of
faith made great difficulties. In the end, however,
Fanny was the means of converting her mother
and all the rest of her family to Christianity. She
was also the happy means of bringing the work she
loved so well before our dear Queen Victoria's
excellent daughter, the late Duchess Alice of
Hesse, whose great wish was to build a Home on
the same principles at Darmstadt. But of this
hereafter.
No one, after seeing Mrs. Vicars, could ever
forget her. She was very far from handsome. Her
type was very Jewish. She had dark, sparkling
eyes, dark hair, and beautiful hands and feet.
Her manner was winning in the extreme. Her
voice was eager, and attuned to the touching
minor tones of sympathy. She had a great sense
of the ridiculous, and an infectious laugh, which
made its way (probably a dessein) into the very
2IO
A Noble Life
hearts of the poor penitents, filling them for the
moment with cheerfulness, and for the moment
casting out the brooding demon of utter, hopeless
condemnation that so often (Mrs. Vicars told me)
embitters that especial class of sinner more than any
other, delivering them over to that gloom of despair,
that real " darkness that may be felt."
As Mrs. Vicars dilated upon the interest of her
work one literally forgot its unsavouriness, and one
only remembered that here was a woman held up
by angels — the angels of mercy, pity, and forgive-
ness. But, all the same, at times I knew her well
enough to be aware of and to appreciate fully her
struggle to sustain the cheerful front she invariably
presented to strangers.
" My dear," she said, " you see my poor girls'
love for me and for the Home. Well, if I were
not to call this their home and me their mother
we could not get on. For, oh ! the difficulties
of the different girls ! They are not the machines
they appear — no more am I ! Look at their want
of education — that is bad ; but look again at some
of them who have education — that is worse !
Some of them are grossly ignorant and idiotic ;
the others have had evil and gross educations
21 I
Miscellanies
which to them have become second natures. But,
dear friend, I can get over that sometimes, but
what I suffer from is the devil of disbelief t]\2it
whispers in my ear that my health is going, that
I shall soon die. And then look at my lost time !
What will become of my girls } — of my work .? —
the Home, &c. } Yes, that I must die like every
one else, and perhaps sooner ; that then a step-
mother will take my place in the form of a
committee ; in fact, ' a king will arise that knows
not Joseph ' — i.e.^ the girls. But then," I re-
member she said to me, " I feel I am low, mean,
contemptible, and I call out to the devil, ' Get
out ! No love-work done for Christ can fail ! '
and then, my dear, I get better ! "
Oh ! how her words reverberated in my ears
years after, when I went with a lady to see the
Home under its " stepmother," the committee.
Kind and stately matrons were there to receive
me — to " show me over " ; but — they " knew not
Joseph." I felt impelled — bad taste, no doubt —
to mention my dear friend's name. My words
were received with civil, gentle surprise ; but one
kind lady said, " Oh, yes, I remember the name
now. She it was who began the work."
212
A Noble Life
Oh ! indeed she did, and often she told me
ho-w she began the work, and a true miracle it
seemed to me,
I am afraid I may have put off till too long
the story I have to tell of Mrs. Vicars, so I will
set to work at once.
Mrs. Murray Vicars' unmarried name was
Phillips. Her father was, as I said before, a well-
known, respected, and rich rabbi. He had a
large family. My dear friend was born in 1817 ;
she, therefore, was thirteen years older than
myself. Mr. Phillips was a good Jew and a good
man, and my dear friend used to say proudly that
she could never call to mind her father having
said or done anything contrary to his belief in
the Old Testament. Of course, he " knew not
Christ," but he was most particular in his re-
ligion, and kept a little Christian maid to perform
necessary household functions on the Sabbath,
which would not be permitted to a Jew. This
same little maid was the destined means of Mrs.
Vicars' conversion. It occurred thus. This be-
loved father and husband, so respected by his
family as the one being on earth who never did
a wrong thing, was taken very ill in London.
213
Miscellanies
1 know not how long he was laid up, but one day
his poor wife came from London to Hampstead,
where a country house had been taken for the
children, and they having been told that their
father was hopelessly ill — in fact, dying — their
mother also added that whenever the children
were sent for, for him to see them, they were on
no account to tell him how ill he was, as the
doctors said " such a fright might kill him." The
poor lady was in the deepest grief, and soon left
the children again, in order to return to her
dying husband.
When the mother had gone back to London,
Fanny and her sister Eve kept whispering together,
and Fanny said, " I cannot see why my good
father should not be told he is dying ; we all
know what a good man he is, so why should he
be afraid to die ? All good Christians are not
afraid." She thought long and anxiously over
this question, and then at last she exclaimed,
" 1 know what I shall do ; I shall get the Christian
maid to procure me a New Testament, and we
can look it over privately, and find out why the
Christians don't fear death." So she and her
sister Eve coaxed the maid, and after some
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difficulty got her to lend them the coveted book.
" And then," Mrs. Vicars added as she told me,
" we went out into the fields, sat ourselves down
under a hedge, and opened the prohibited volume."
Mrs. Vicars continued, " We read eagerly and
long, and when we came to compare the New
Testament accounts of the Lord's birth and
death with the 53rd chapter of Isaiah and other
parts of the Old Testament, our eyes were in-
stantaneously opened, and we then and there
believed ! A veil seemed torn from our eyes,
and we saw Jesus ! Like the jailor of Philippi,
our conversion, I repeat, was sudden and in-
stantaneous. We rose from our seats and
entered the house new creatures — Christians ! "
After this event, however, Fanny was not happy,
for with that fine, open, generous nature which
afterwards so distinguished her, she felt she must
"confess Christ," and not be ashamed of One
who had gone through such suffering and had
died for her sake. Still, as was but natural,
she feared the consequences which she knew must
inevitably follow. And besides, how was she to
make her confession ?
The opportunity was given her sooner than
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Miscellanies
she expected. Her father died. He had been
a wealthy man, as well as a good and justly
respected one, and all his friends of his own faith,
as well as many outside acquaintances, were anxious
to hear how he had disposed of his money. They
were not left long in doubt, for a week or so after
his decease it was considered necessary that his
widow and two daughters should (for the purpose
of identification) make their appearance in a court
of law. (I apologise if my legal terms are not
as correct as they should be. But I am relating
all this from memory, and fear my expressions
may be faulty, although they are, as far as I can
remember, true, and strictly according to Mrs.
Vicars' own narrative.) The carriage was accord-
ingly ordered one day, and the mother and
daughters repaired to the court. When they
arrived they had to wait a little, as another case
was in hearing, and during those few minutes,
Fanny, who had never before seen anything of
the kind, was deeply interested. She noticed
also, with a quickening pulse, that when the
witnesses were sworn a different book was pre-
sented to the Christians to that upon which the
Jewish witnesses took their oath, and intuitively
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she comprehended. "The Old and the New
Testaments," she whispered to herself. " And
now's my time. For the court being packed
with Jews my confession of Christ will be
thorough. And I will confess Him, come what
may !
Fanny's mother was sworn, and the individual
who held the book approached the girl.
" I felt rather faint," she told me, " but when I
heard him desire me to swear to ' the truth —
all the truth — and nothing but the truth,' I
braced myself up and proudly put out my hand,
and while pushing the Old Testament aside, I
said loudly, so that all present should hear,
' Give me the New Testament, for I believe in
the Lord Jesus Christ ./ '"
In repeating this story, she declared that as
she spoke an electric shock seemed to strike
through the assembled crowd, and a terrible scene
of anger and confusion ensued, which so terrified
the girl that she never could quite call to mind
what really took place. The assembled Jews
called her " an apostate," and were so disposed
to be violent that the police had to be called in,
and they rescued her by force, but not before
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Miscellanies
her clothes were torn and she, personally, had been
roughly handled.
" I got home somehow," she said, *' I never
quite knew how ; but afterwards they expelled
me from home, and my family mourned for me
for a year^ as being dead to them." Mrs. Vicars
never cared to dilate much on this part of her
history, and, of course, I could not press her.
But she always rejoiced over the fact that after-
wards, through God's great mercy, all, or at all
events the most part, of her family became
Christians also. She herself was baptized at
Christ Church, Maida Hill, by the Rev. Daniel
Moore in 1841. She became one of that gentle-
man's district visitors, and taught in his Sunday
school. In the year 1 844 she married the Rev.
Murray Vicars, and went out with him to Bagdad
on missionary work, where her husband's labours
were blessed, being, no doubt, helped on by his
energetic and warm-hearted wife.
The Rev. Murray Vicars died in 18 51, and his
widow lived for some time afterwards with a
sister of hers ; then she proceeded to Brighton on
a visit, to see a friend who lived there in delicate
health, and it was at her house that she first met
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the Rev. G. Wagner, cousin to the much re-
spected Arthur Wagner, but diametrically opposite
to him in his religious views. It was some years
after all this that the great blessing and benefit of
Mrs. Vicars' friendship was bestowed upon me.
She was now almost a middle-aged, though
wonderfully active, woman, upon whose serious
face one could trace the indelible lines of anxiety
and care. But her personal charm was great ; she
had a kindly voice and tender dark eyes (so quick
to see, and yet with such quick readiness to " use
her eyelids," when necessary, instead of her eyes).
This expression I often quote, having originally
heard it from the late Rev. J. Vaughan.
As I write, the dear lady's whole personality
comes up before me so vividly, and I feel now,
as I used to do then, no surprise at the wonderful
influence she wielded over all those whom she
wished to propitiate. Then there was her gentle
laugh (which I mentioned before), so " infectious,"
and which she knew so well how to use. I re-
member her once saying to me, " My dear, God
in His loving-kindness has bestowed upon me a
very strong sense of the ridiculous, and no one
knows how this gift (for I can call it nothing
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Miscellanies
short of a ' gift ' in my case) has often and often
helped the ' lame dog over the stile.' "
I must now, however, relate, in as nearly her
own wotds as possible, what was the beginning of that
'* Home " which flourished under her care for so
many years, becoming a blessing to wretched out-
casts, who would without it have probably " gone
under " both here and hereafter. She and I were
sitting together one day, and she said, " Did I
ever tell you what was the beginning of the
' Home ' } No } Well listen. I was one day
feeling very depressed, thinking of my husband,
and the words sprang up in my mind, ' No man
careth for my soul,' and I began to weep. *This
won't do,' I thought, ' I will go out to change
my thoughts.' I must tell you that at that
time I used to take long, solitary evening
walks, never noticing much where I went or
whom I met.
" Well, this night I found myself seated on a
seat on the beach, on that part of the esplanade
nearest the sea. I liked hearing the waves, and
also the solitude of the place, which was very
different then to what it is now. There were no
bright lamps then, and it was a very dark misty
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night. The place, I afterwards found out, was
invariably haunted by the very lowest of the low
class of both men and women after a certain hour.
In my sad mood, however, I did not notice this,
but I sat on, only listening to the waves.
" Soon, however, m the ' near distance,' I made
out three figures coming towards where I was
sitting — two men and a woman. They evidently
did not see me, as I was dressed in black and was
sitting on the dark bench, no doubt enveloped
entirely in the mist. The men were speaking, and
as far as I could see they looked like two working
men, while the woman was unmistakably one of
those unfortunates whose very existence some
people think should be ignored. The night was
still, their voices loud, so that I was forced, though
unwillingly, to hear their foul conversation, and,
trembling and disgusted, I became the witness to
a shameful bargain, struck between the woman
and one of the men.
" I listened a moment longer, as they still had
not seen me, and then my mind was made up.
" 1 rose quietly from the seat, and approaching
the poor woman, who seemed much startled at my
appearance, 1 put my hand on her arm, ' Tou
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Miscellanies
are never going to sell your soul?'' I said to
her. Recovering herself, the woman answered
quickly and almost savagely, ' And what if you
are starving ? '
" ' For God's blessed sake come home with me,'
I said. ' I will give you a supper and a bed.'
The woman demurred and seemed frightened —
long afterwards she told me she thought I was a
spirit appearing to her through the mist — while the
men began to be abusive and violent, but taking
no notice of them, I held on to the woman's arm.
' Oh ! do come ! ' I said, ' for God Almighty's
sake ! ' And she did come. I took her to my
lodgings, and after feeding her I got her to tell
me her story. It was, alas ! a very common one,
beginning in folly and ending in sin ; then came
the constant fall, lower and lower, until finally
she landed in the very abyss of degradation and
starvation.
^, *' ' Stay with me to-night,' I pleaded with her,
and I gave her my own bed, which seemed to
touch her more than anything, lying myself on
a mattress on the floor. I kept her in all the next
day — would not let her go out. I dressed her in
some of my own clothes, and sent for my kind
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friend the Rev. George Wagner to come and speak
to her. He argued with her gently and lovingly,
and finally got her to promise to stay for a while
and do some work for me in the house. I
kept her with me for some days and nights, and
finally, to make a long story short, her heart
became touched, and she so penitent, so active in
the housework, that I made her my waiting-maid.
God had blessed the means and the words of Mr.
Wagner, and she became amenable and deeply
impressed by God's love for her — a sinner — and
still further with the fact that He would not for-
sake or scorn her as the world would do.
*' I kept her thus for a few weeks ; and one day
she came to me and said, ' Did not I think that
as God had permitted her to be rescued, she
ought to go out of a night and try to bring in
other poor women, her companions in sin ^ ' She
did so, and I went with her. Some of the women
laughed at me and at her, some insulted us, but
three or four hearkened and came with us. So I
had to take a room for them, and thai was the
beginning of the Home.
" The woman who was first rescued worked
faithfully with me for years ; became one of my
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Miscellanies
most trusted matrons at the Home, and died
there, having been the means of good to many
miserable desperate women."
For years Mrs. Vicars worked indefatigably, and
her whole life was one of self-sacrifice in every par-
ticular; but, to my mind, the greatest instance of her
self-abnegation, and one that should not pass unre-
corded, was, that the good clergyman who helped
her in her arduous work, who stood by her day by
day, an appreciative witness of her constant and
unselfish devotion to the poor castaways — a devo-
tion only second to her love for the Redeemer —
became deeply attached to her and asked her to
be his wife. He loved her, and she most truly
loved him, and at first gave her happy consent.
" But," she said to me while relating this part of
the story, " upon mature reflection, I saw clearly
that if I were to become a wife, I should no longer
work as completely for my girls and with that
single eye which heretofore had guided me.
No ! I should naturally care to please my
husband. I should probably have children, and
then where would be my girls ^ ' No,' I said to
myself, ' I must give this happiness up also, I
must give up a/I to God, and " my girls " must
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have all I have — and am ; the sacrifice must be
entire ! ' "
Mrs. Vicars never told me how Mr. Wagner
took her decision ; he must, anyhow, have gone
on respecting and loving her all the more, for
to his dying day he went on working for and
with her, and there never seemed to have been a
hitch between this man and woman, who gave up
all, as their Master had done, to save sinners.
After once relating it, Mrs. Vicars never men-
tioned this episode to me again, and after Mr.
Wagner's death, which took place abroad, to her
great grief, she worked on for years alone. Then
it pleased God to weaken her sight. I had the
privilege, for some months, of writing her letters,
and many were the interesting and extraordinary
stories I heard from her lips, although she never
in any instance gave up a single name.
One morning I remember meeting her on the
esplanade, in a bath chair, a form of locomotion
which she was forced to adopt in consequence ot
her failing sight and of, alas ! her general health.
She seemed depressed, and told me that the
" Home " expenses were unusually large, and had,
of course, to be met; and she added, "she really
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Miscellanies
did not know where the money would come
from," but that it would come, she never really
doubted for one moment ! Still, I had never
seen her so despondent before, and it worried me
greatly to hear her ejaculating, " My girls ! my
poor girls ! " Suddenly she checked herself. " I
am wrong," she said, " for God has the money,
if He sees fit to give it to me." Then she told
me the sum she required — a very large one (some
hundreds) ; and when she mentioned it to me as
" hundreds," she added comically, " and
three and fourpence ! and where is the three and
fourpence to come from } I don't know, do
you .'' " She laughed, although evidently ill at
ease, and I had, unfortunately, to leave her then ;
but the next day I went out again and met her
at the same spot. She was looking radiant.
" I've got it ! " she exclaimed.
" Got what f \ said stupidly.
*' Why, the three and fourpence of course !
And where from, do you suppose ^ Why — from
China^ and from a man I don't know, and that I
never heard of ! "
China, in those days, was not next door (!) as it
almost appears to be now. At that time it was a
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land of mystery ; and that any money, for " Mrs.
Vicars' Home," should have come from China
seemed little less than miraculous. She told me
*' a good man in China " had come across a small
book entitled "Work Among the Lost" — been
deeply interested in it, and had felt impelled to
send her almost the exact sum she had been
pining for.
(This book had been compiled from Mrs.
Vicars' own notes, and published by a lady, once
a great friend. It was, however, afterwards
withdrawn.)
In talking over this happy experience of obtain-
ing the money from China, Mrs. Vicars said to
me, " Ah ! I did not deserve such a mark of love,
for in my anxiety I had almost doubted God's will
to save ; and it is not the first time, after all, I
had been helped in an extremity ! "
The great difficulty Mrs. Vicars had often to
contend against was that of " getting at " some
of the wretched young girls, whose relations
would come to her for help, to get their
daughter, or their sister, out of the horrible
haunts and dens of sin, always open to receive
unwary girls, and in which the inmates were.
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Miscellanies
quite as securely confined as were ever convicts in
a prison. When Mrs. Vicars went on these
quests she went alone; and she invariably refused
(when urged, and even warned to do so) to take
a policeman with her. " No ! no ! " she would
say, " that would make them look upon me at
once as an enemy ! " and many were the escapes
she had from real danger — such as being roughly
handled and " hustled."
She related to me one most touchingly interest-
ing instance, and because it had a happy ending I
must set it down here.
One of the girls, who had been for some time
an inmate of the Home, and who was considered
a most hopeful case, being in very delicate health
and very attentive to the religious teaching she
received — ran away ! She had climbed over the
wall, taking with her, of course, all her nice
" Home " clothes. This was a terrible blow to
Mrs. Vicars, one which very rarely (although it
had now and then occurred before) befell her.
The girl kept away for some time, and Mrs. Vicars
began to fear the runaway would never be heard of
again. Unlike most establishments (I believe) of
the kind, Mrs. Vicars used to receive runaways
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A Noble Life
back once or even twice, if she considered it a
hopeful case. One day, however, a penitent
letter arrived from the wretched unfortunate,
giving her address, saying she was staying at one
of the dens of infamy in the town, but that she
must see Mrs. Vicars as she was dying. She gave
her address, and said that the " mother " (!) re-
fused to let her write to Mrs. Vicars or leave the
house in which she was staying, that her shoes
and clothes had been taken away from her (she
being in bed), and that thus she was prevented
from going back to the Home ! She added that
she had coaxed one of the girls to post her letter
to Mrs. Vicars, although she had no stamp. She
ended by writing, " Oh ! pray — pray come ! "
Mrs. Vicars instantly started, and getting some-
where near the address (which she did not know),
she entered a small " general " shop, and seeing a
man behind the counter, asked him if he could
guide her, giving him the written address.
The man stared, first at the paper, then at
Mrs. Vicars, and said finally :
" You are never going there, madam, and
aione r
Mrs. Vicars answered that such was her
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Miscellanies
intention, and that, moreover, no time was to be
lost.
"Then, madam," the man answered, ** I guess
who you are."
*' Then," answered Mrs. Vicars, " if you really
are a friend, let us, first of all, pray about it, that
God will bless my undertaking, and that I may
find the child."
They did so, both kneeling down in an inner
room, and then she started, following the shop-
man's directions.
it was up a court, or rather many courts and
narrow streets, and many astonished-looking men
and women stood at their doors looking at the
strange lady as she passed, but offering no insults.
When she came to the door she was seeking, she
knocked and rang, and a rather alarming-looking
man appeared in answer, and asked what she
wanted.
" May I see the lady of the house ? " Mrs.
Vicars said. Her heart beat fast, but she showed
no fear ; although the man's manner was by no
means reassuring. He led her into a small but
tidy room on the ground floor, and then he asked
her name.
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A Noble Life
She did not give it, feeling convinced that had
she done so — her name was so well known — she
would have been turned away. So she said, " If
you will call the lady of the house I will give
her my name at once." The man then began to
swear, and said she came from the police.
Mrs. Vicars assured him calmly but firmly that
she had nothing to do with the police or with any
one of the kind, but that a friend of hers was
lodging in the house who was very ill, and that
she was anxious to see her.
The man looked very sulky but left the room,
and Mrs. Vicars heard him call out, " Mother,
you're wanted."
Then there was an answer in a woman's voice,
and a short, whispered conversation.
Mrs. Vicars meantime looked about the room,
taking in everything she saw, and then a middle-
aged woman appeared in the doorway, and asked
her visitor brusquely her name and what she
wanted.
Mrs. Vicars gave her name (which the woman
knew of course), and added, " You have a sick girl
here called M J . May I see her .? She
lived for some time with me. Is she very ill } "
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Miscellanies
'* Too ill to be bothered by you," the woman
answered roughly, at the same time opening the
door widely, and pointing to the way out of the
house.
Mrs. Vicars took no notice of the rudeness of
the woman's words, nor to her gestures, but said
gently, " Ah, don't be cross. I do so wish to see
the girl." Then looking around the room she said
pleasantly, " You have a nice little sitting-room
here and quite a library. May I sit down for a
moment and look at your books, for I have had a
long walk ? "
The woman gave a surly, unwilling consent,
and then after a few minutes said, *' And now
ma'am, you must go, for I am very busy."
But Mrs. Vicars still looked at the books, asking
— imploring — God to teach her what to do. Then
she said, "Do let me see that poor child.'' I
assure you if you will let me do so, I will go
away if you still wish it."
The woman looked irresolute, and Mrs. Vicars
suddenly exclaimed, pointing to a shelf, " What a
beautiful Bible I see there, and I am sure it is an
old and valuable one. Will you let me see it ? "
The woman looked pleased and off her guard.
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A Noble Lite
" Ah ! she said, " that was my mother's Bible,
and her mother's before that. She gave it me
when — when — I left home."
She took the book down, and dusting it, gave it
into Mrs. Vicars' hand, who opened it purposely
at Isaiah i. i8, and read out distinctly the words :
"Come now, and let us reason together ; though
your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as
snow."
The woman began to fidget — to seem uncom-
fortable— as Mrs. Vicars went on ; then suddenly
Mrs. Vicars said, " Where is your mother .^ "
" She is dead, ma'am, worse luck ! "
" Ah ! poor thing ! "
" But she was a good woman," said the land-
lady fiercely, on the defensive, and little heeding
the almost confession of her own sin, which the
emphasis in these words implied.
" Ah ! were you with her at the time she died .f" "
The woman burst into tears, and sobbed out,
" No, I was not. She lived miles and miles away,
in a farmhouse in shire, and I dared not go
to see her! It had been my home."
" Poor, poor thing. And did you wish very
much to see her } "
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Miscellanies
" I did, and I heard after that she wished
much to see me — and I never went."
Then Mrs. Vicars put her arm round the
woman's shoulders and said, " What a sorrow
for her — when she was dying too ! Well, that poor
girl upstairs looks on me as her mother, and
wants to see me. Would you have it on your
conscience to give her that pain ? Come, let me
go up."
This time the woman did not refuse, but took
the visitor upstairs, and I think she told me after-
wards she had little or no further opposition from
the man. The girl was wrapped up in a blanket
and carried back to the Home, where she eventually
died peacefully and repentantly. But the story
did not end here. The landlady, at first so fierce
and defiant, became softened. She gave up her
wicked ways, her wicked house, and ended by being
a religious and respected woman.
Mrs. Vicars told me innumerable and touching
anecdotes of this kind, but of course such exciting
work was very fatiguing both to mind and body,
and in time wore her out. Her mind, however,
remained vigorous almost to the end, and for a
long time so did her body. She worked up to the
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A Noble Life
last ; but all things wear out ! When she could
no longer walk, she drove and wrote, and when
her eyes became bad she got others to write for
her; but the whole machine gave way in the end.
Some time, however, before that end, and when
she was quite able to get about and see to the work,
a very good lady, who knew and loved Mrs.
Vicars (the Comtesse de N by name), came
and lived at Eastbourne, and Mrs. Vicars got a
letter from her one day saying. Could she come
and see her ? That a great friend of hers (one of
the Royal Family) had come to Eastbourne, that
she had accidentally come across Mrs. Vicars'
book, " Work among the Lost," which gave an
account of the Brighton Home, and of Mrs.
Vicars' method of carrying it on.
The royal personage (who was none other
than the beloved Princess Alice, Grand Duchess
of Hesse-Darmstadt), it seemed, had long wished
to establish such a home in Germany ; so she had
questioned the Countess closely concerning it,
asked if Mrs. Vicars was still alive, and would it
be possible for Mrs. Vicars to come to Eastbourne
and talk to her on the subject ^ Mrs. Vicars con-
sented, went to Eastbourne the next day, the first
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Miscellanies
of many visits, and a lively affection sprang up
between her and the Princess. Finally it was
arranged that one day her Royal Highness should
travel incognita to Brighton herself to see the
home, its inmates, its workrooms, and its laundry,
so as to initiate her into the intricacies and
mysteries inseparable from the establishment of
such an institution in Germany.
The day for the royal visit arrived, and for
many private reasons it was thought desirable to
keep the event unknown. Mrs. Vicars drove to
the station in a common fly, met the Grand
Duchess and her lady, and drove them at first to
the house of a relative of Mrs. Vicars, who was
in the secret, to give the visitors a little rest
and refreshment, and in about an hour's time
Mrs. Vicars accompanied the Grand Duchess to
the Home. "The girls" were not in the least
aware of the rank of their visitor. They were
accustomed to seeing ladies, who came for
different purposes, and as the Grand Duchess
entered each apartment, the girls (some of them
a little more than children) of course all rose
and curtsied, and sat down again to their
needlework quietly and happily. They were all
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A Noble Life
dressed in cotton gowns, white caps, and white
aprons ; their hair neatly smoothed back and
knotted behind. Generally, I believe, in such in-
stitutions the girls have their hair cut off, but this
Mrs. Vicars would not allow. " Let them wear
their hair," she would say, '* as God gave it to
them as a glory. I don't want them to think them-
selves convicts ; they are living in a Home — a
haven of rest." But to return to the Princess's
visit.
When the Grand Duchess saw these poor girls
(some of them rescued from the very gutter),
" clothed," as it were, " and in their right minds,"
she was so deeply affected she could not keep back
her tears.
After she had been over the whole house she
felt tired (she was much out of health), and
begged for a cup of tea ; and when she noticed
that in the large tea-room where the girls' meal
was prepared, a small table was set for the matrons
at the end of the room (the girls themselves being
ranged each side of a long table placed down the
centre of the apartment), the Grand Duchess said
to Mrs. Vicars, " Do you always have tea with the
girls, I mean in the same room ? "
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Miscellanies
Mrs. Vicars said, " Yes, always when I am
here ! "
" Oh ! then," said the kind Princess, " may I
have tea there too with the girls ? "
Mrs. Vicars, of course, agreed and was delighted;
and accordingly she and her august visitor sat side
by side at the top of the room. Grace was sung
by the girls and a most happy meal was enjoyed
by all, Mrs. Vicars having added some small
delicacy to the girls' table in honour of the royal
visit. After tea Mrs. Vicars made the girls sing a
little together in parts, which they did very sweetly ;
then she leant forward towards the Princess and
whispered that " she had a very great favour to
ask her Royal Highness, and might she make it ? "
The Princess smiled her consent, upon which
Mrs. Vicars made the following request :
*' You know, madam, that these poor girls have
not the remotest idea as to your Royal Highness's
identity, for the visit, according to your wish, has
been kept a profound secret. Now, you have
no idea what an untold pleasure it would afford
them, in their pleasureless lives, nor do you
know the impetus it would be to them for good
were they to know that people of your rank in
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life are interested in their welfare, I have always
held the Queen up to them as a model wife and
mother ; now, if I were to tell them who you
are, and put them on their honour to keep the
secret, they would be proud of being trusted, and
I feel sure, that at all events for once, there will
be an inviolable secret known to over a hundred
people — a real secret which will never leave these
four walls ! May I tell them ? Of course, if you
dislike the idea we will think no more about it."
The Princess Alice thought for a moment, and
then said, " I will trust them."
Upon this Mrs. Vicars, who had, of course,
carried on this conversation with the Grand
Duchess in a very low tone, rose from her chair,
and very simply addressed the astonished girls.
" Children," she said, " can you keep a secret,
do you think .^ "
The hundred voices answered eagerly, " Yes,
we can."
((
But," said Mrs. Vicars, " would you do so ? "
" Yes," was answered as with one voice.
" You promise faithfully ? "
" We do."
Then the good lady continued : "You know
239
Miscellanies
how I have always taught you to love, revere, and
pray for our Queen, have I not ? Now this lady
here present is the Princess Alice, Grand Duchess of
Hesse, the Queen's daughter. For certain reasons
her Royal Highness wishes her visit to you to be
kept secret for a while, and she desires me to say
she trusts this secret to your honour. She also
desires me to say she shall never forget this
happy visit, nor how delighted and touched she
has been to see you all so innocently cheerful.
She wishes me to say that she will ever take the
deepest and most affectionate interest in your
welfare, and prays God may bless you, now and
ever.
The poor penitents were enchanted at the trust
reposed in them, and the story never transpired,
a marvellous proof of how well, fallen as they
were, they still appreciated and understood the
meaning of the word " honour."
And now I feel I must finish my short and
(I confess) most inadequate sketch of the great
work of a good woman. I really think I could
fill volumes with the stories the good lady used
to tell me of heart-breaking wrong, violence,
misery, and deep repentance of girls who
240
A Noble Life
rarely, but at times, escaped from the " Home"
and recommenced their wicked lives ; of their
heart-broken and shame-faced return, sometimes
to die, but oftener, thank God, to prosecute
useful and virtuous lives.
" Why run away ? " Mrs. Vicars would say.
" Why scale a wall, when you could always ask
for your own clothes and go out by the door .''
For in England you can't be kept anywhere
against your will."
Then the constant confessions of sin and
sorrow, and of deep love for the merciful Saviour,
and for the kind and devoted lady, who, though
strong and just, tempered her strength and justice
with sympathy, were frequent — and often lasting.
The one sin, Mrs. Vicars told me (and I feel
impelled to impress this upon all readers), which
she almost despaired of ever seeing cured in a
woman was drunkenness. " My girls," she would
say, "have been, and some of them are, unchaste,
thieves, liars, and criminals, but all these sins I
have seen repented of, aye, and forsaken ; but
in all my experience of forty years I never saw a
case of drunkenness cured ! "
She told me this on the fortieth anniversary
241 Q
Miscellanies
of her having inaugurated the Home. " I do
not say," she went on, *' that the drink habit
never is cured ; but, you see, after it has been
indulged in for a time it becomes no longer a
choice, but a necessity. But, after all," she
added, with her beaming smile, *' The Lord
Christ can cast out a/l devils ; and will do so
if approached in the right way. But — beware of
drunkenness .'"
And now I have done ; but she is reaping her
reward.
" Surely she opened her mouth with wisdom,
and in her tongue was the law of kindness."
242
A HALF-TRUE STORY
[In my reminiscences I have related nothing but what is
absolutely true. This story is only half true — that is to say,
it is true as to facts, but not as to locality. My conversa-
tion with the madman is literally true — every word.]
I WAS one evening presiding over a happy party
of young people (my guests), who had trooped
into my sitting-room to partake of that pleasant
and movable feast, a five o'clock tea. We were
all thoroughly at home with each other, most of
the individuals present being cousins, and all of
them near relations to myself. Some had just
returned from riding, others from driving or
walking, and all seemed bent upon half an hour's
unconstrained, unconventional comfort.
One damsel had thrown herself at full length
upon the sofa, two others sat upon cushions
placed for that purpose in front of the fire, while
the young men were sprawling about — as young
men will — in different attitudes, indicative of
243
Miscellanies
each one's peculiar stage of fatigue or laziness.
Candles and lamps had been discarded, and the
firelight alone illumined the room.
Suddenly one of the young girls addressed me
in a coaxing tone, thus :
" Dear Auntie, do tell us a story."
" A story ! " I exclaimed ; " and pray what
about .? "
" A ghost story," exclaimed a chorus of young
voices.
" Oh, no ! I never tell ghost stories, although
I know a good many, but "
"Well," persisted the first speaker, "tell us
something — something truly dreadful, and dread-
fully true."
" Would you like me to tell you something
that really happened to myself years ago .? "
" Oh, yes ; better than anything else."
" Very well. Poke the fire into a blaze — so ;
and now, if you are all ready, I will begin, and
remember that what I am going to tell you is
really and literally true.
" Some years ago I took to the strange habit of
rising early — but very, very early I mean — and
taking a solitary country walk. This would not
244.
A Half- true Story
have been such a strange thing to do had the
hour been less unconventionally early, and had
I confined my pedestrian feats to the summer-
time ; but this I did not do. Winter and summer
were alike to me then, and at both seasons I
invariably rose at four o'clock, and was out of
the house before five ; and I need hardly re-
mind you that at that hour in the winter it is
quite dark, unless, of course, there should be a
moon.
" Some of you, no doubt, are saying to your-
selves, ' What a foolish old woman to leave her
comfortable warm bed at such an unheard-of hour>
instead of waiting, like a sensible person, to go
out in the daytime.'
'* Ah ! foolish it may have been, and, as it
turned out, it certainly was ; but the habit did
not originate in any case from caprice. It arose
from a wretched restlessness of mind and body,
the effects of a great sorrow — the greatest, in my
opinion, that can befall any woman, especially a
young one, as I was then. Some of you here
know to what I allude, so I need not enter into
the circumstances beyond saying briefly that on
one wretched winter's morning, as the clocks were
245
Miscellanies
striking five, a blow fell upon me, shattering all
my earthly hopes of future happiness.
" For months afterwards I could not sleep, and
J. used to lie restlessly, feverishly tossing about in
my bed, morbidly recalling and living over again
each particular incident of the awful night which
preceded my trouble, dreading also to hear the
ruthless clock chime out the fatal hour; and
after it had done so, my agitation and distress
would reach such a pitch that nothing could
quiet me.
"At last I conceived the plan of rising early from
my weary, sleepless couch, dressing hastily, and
being out and far away before the dreaded moment
should arrive. God grant that none of you may
ever experience the torture that I did then, only
to find out, too, how impossible it is to run away
from oneself!
" My home at that time was in Scotland. I
lived in a dear old house which was poised, like a
bird, upon a rock, and literally hung over the sea,
the silver spray dashing ceaselessly against its
windows. On one side of the house there was a
good-sized old-fashioned garden, laid out in
terraces down to the sea, and not a quarter of
246
A Half-true Story
a mile distant from the other side was a thick fir-
wood.
" It was into this wood that I generally strayed
of a morning, and, sitting upon one of the felled
trees, of which there were always a number lying
prone upon the ground, I would watch the day-
light gradually appearing, and the sun rising
grandly out of the sea. After the sun had fairly
risen I always hastened homewards, so as to avoid
meeting any early risers who might be about the
place ; and the rest of the day I would shut my-
self up with my books and music, a prey to
harrowing memories. I cannot defend my worse
than useless life at this time. My grief was
selfish, and therefore all the harder to bear, for
God has taught me since that there is no such
comfort in sorrow as that of seeking to comfort
others.
" There were no gentlemen's places near my
home, consequently no neighbours, no visitors,
ever molested me. But not many miles distant there
existed an old, melancholy looking mansion, called
Mornington, which had been uninhabited for many
years, but latterly, to the great annoyance of the
farmers and small gentry around, it had been let
247
Miscellanies
to a Dr. Sterndale, who kept an establishment for
incurable lunatics.
" Everything, however, seemed to go on quietly
there, the unhappy patients never, apparently,
venturing beyond the park, which was shut in by
large iron gates. These were always locked, but
now and then passers-by caught glimpses through
the bars of gaunt, strangely attired figures, and
sometimes, though rarely, of pale, anxious-look-
ing faces peering through the ironwork.
" There was a dilapidated lodge at the entrance
gates, surrounded by what had been, years ago, a
garden, but now it was choked up by overgrown
shrubs — evergreens — which seemed vainly strug-
gling and struggling, out of kindly delicacy, to
hide their old friend's broken windows and un-
hinged doors.
" Certainly this lodge had an uncanny appear-
ance, and the report had once been spread — a
ridiculously false one, of course — that it was at
times used as a ' dead-house.' No living person
was ever seen to enter the door, no smoke to issue
from the chimney, and when Dr. Sterndale drove
out in his lumbering coach, which he did now and
again, accompanied by some of his most favoured
248
A Half-true Story-
patients, he invariably opened the lodge gates him-
self and carefully relocked them, thus requiring
no aid from a lodge-keeper.
"The doctor's vehicle, just mentioned, rather
struck, awe, I found, in the simple villager
mind ; for my gardener related that one day, as
it was coming towards him, he saw it suddenly
shut itself up with a loud snap. ' For all the
wor-r-rld,' said the man timorously, ' like a large
mouth, gulping down the puir folk who were
inside.' In vain I assured him that this pheno-
menon was simply the result of some clever inside
mechanism, and the country people became
superstitiously alarmed, and this sentiment was
by no means lessened when the gardener proceeded
to give further details. He stated that one day
at the moment the carriage passed him, one of the
blinds, which had been hastily drawn down, was
pushed aside by a large white hand, covered with
glittering rings ; that then a face was thrust
forward, making horrid grimaces and gesticula-
tions ; but that both head and hands hastily dis-
appeared with a jerk, as though the individual
who claimed them had been forcibly dragged
back. The blind was then replaced, but it shook
249
Miscellanies
exceedingly, as if some struggle were going on
behind it ; and then the carriage passed by, vanish-
ing in a cloud of dust.
** I laughed at the story to some, and
endeavoured to explain it simply to others ; but
finding it was impossible to stem the torrent of
obstinacy or ignorance, or both, and not feeling
quite comfortable about it myself, I left the
matter alone.
" That the lunatics were of a dangerous class I
had often heard it said, but such a report would
be sure, I thought, to get afloat, were it true or
the reverse ; and as Mornington was a long way
from any house — it was quite a mile the other
side of the fir-wood, which itself was nearly a
mile broad — I did not trouble myself about such
tales. My maid, however, who had lived years
with me, constantly implored me to be less
venturesome in my morning walks ; but I ex-
perienced no fear ; the greatest calamity that
could befall me had come, so I was callous about
anything else.
" Well, one morning late in the autumn, having
been more restless than usual during the previous
night, I got up earlier even than was my wont,
250
A Half-true Story
and after a brisk walk found myself in the very
heart of the wood. I knew exactly where I was,
for a seat had been placed there to mark the
centre-point. It was one of the (then) new-
fashioned double seats, upon which people sit
back to back, and just as I reached it I heard a
village clock strike five, and for the first time in
my life — I knew not why — when I realised my
distance from home and the earliness of the hour,
a shudder came over me, while the fact that the
place was very lonely, and that I was only a
weak woman and utterly defenceless, forced
itself unpleasantly upon me. I determined, how-
ever, to pooh-pooh my fears, to pull myself
together, and to persuade myself that I was not
afraid.
" ' It is the weather,' I said, ' which has un-
nerved me,' and certainly it was not reassuring.
" It was a fitful morning ; there had been a
good deal of rain during the night, accompanied
by wild gusts of wind. Heavy black and white
clouds were hurrying across the sky, and seemed
to chase the terrified and fugitive moon.
" She was at her full, and at one moment her
bright and almost blinding beams would pierce
251
Miscellanies
through the waving trees, casting strange unearthly
shadows around ; and at the next, she and the
shuddering wood would be enveloped in a funeral
pall of inky blackness. The effect was weird in
the extreme, and during one of the moments of
sudden obscurity I sank down on the seat spell-
bound, looking up at the sky with a beating heart,
and longing for the next appearance of the rolling
moon. One angry cloud had already released her,
but I saw that yet another must pass over her face
before her blessed light could reappear, and it was
the strangest cloud I ever beheld, being the exact
shape of a man's hand, with one long bony finger
stretched out, I fancied, in warning. The moon
seemed to roll slowly and painfully between the
fingers, looking very pale and faint the while ;
but at last, with a bound, she emerged from the
shadows with a wild and happy brightness, as
though rejoicing to escape from the clutch of the
hand.
" I, also, was inexpressibly relieved, and rose
quickly from my seat, intending to hurry home •
but how can I paint the amazement, the horror I
felt, when I perceived I was no longer alone !
Another human being had silently, with cat-like
2C2
A Half-true Story
steps, arrived during the darkness ; a man was
sitting on the seat, on the further end of the
other side. His face was turned away, but his
appearance Was so peculiarly alarming that my
heart stood still ; for at a glance I ' took in ' the
situation.
" ' An escaped lunatic ! ' I thought, ' and my
only chance of safety is to " brave it out." '
"As these thoughts darted through my brain,
the man slowly, very slowly, turned his head and
looked deliberately at me. Oh ! that look !
Never, to my dying day, shall I forget it ! I see
it now. Everything most terrifying, most sinister,
most repulsive was in that look.
" Audacity, cowardice, insolence, malice — all —
all these were there, and above all, and through
them all — madness. The man was deadly pale, or
the struggling dawn, which was just silvering the
horizon, made him appear so. His eyes were
frightfully bloodshot, his teeth were large and
very white, and there was a light froth upon his
lips, and the whole face had the blue-grey appear-
ance of a corpse !
"The man wore a long ulster coat, buttoned
from his throat to his feet, and a tumbled white
253
Miscellanies
collar appeared above it, giving me the im-
pression that he must have escaped from his
bed, and in his night-gear.
" What alarmed me almost more than any-
thing— (if anything could be more alarming
than everything was !) — was the fact that a centre
button of the coat, at the waist, was unbuttoned,
and in the aperture thus formed one of the
man's hands was thrust, and I kept asking my-
self, ' What is he hiding there ? A pistol, a
knife, or what ? '
"Feeling my extreme helplessness, and how
entirely I was, humanly speaking, at the mercy of
a madman, I sent up a silent prayer to the All-
Powerful God — a cry for help — for wisdom how
to act ; and, on looking back now, I can see how
wonderfully my ejaculatory prayer was instantly
answered, for I felt suddenly impelled, by a de-
cision not my own, not to run nor even to walk
away, but to reseat myself with the greatest
apparent calmness ! (For in the first excitement
of fear upon having become aware of the man's
presence, I had started to my feet !)
" This act seemed to surprise, to please the
man, for he smiled, and, to my unspeakable terror,
254
A Half-true Story
slid slowly along the seat till he came to me,
although still on the other side. I felt his shoulder
touch mine — but I dared not shrink from the
contact ; then he bent his head back, till it rested
on my veil, his foetid breath mingling with mine,
while he peered, insolently, mockingly, into my
face. After a few moments — which appeared
hours to me — during which he intently scanned
my features, while I, God helping me, tried
to meet his gaze bravely, he said deliberately,
and evidently watching the effect of his words :
' I saw you coming into the wood. I hid behind
a tree, and then I followed you. When the moon
shone out I hid again, and touched your gown
as you passed, but you didn't know. Ha, ha !
funny, isn't it .? Then, when it got dark again,
I crept up to the seat ; and when you sat down,
I did so too. Why shouldn't I .? I have as much
right here as you. I say ' (coming a trifle nearer
and putting his horrid mouth close to my ear)
' we are quite alone in the wood, you and I — you
and 1 1 Nice, isn't it .? Are you afraid — eh } '
" ' No,' I answered boldly ; ' why should I be
afraid ? We are not alone, as you suppose,
for '
255
Miscellanies
*' ' Eh ? ' said he, nervously looking round ;
then, in a whisper, ' Who is here besides us ? '
" * God ! ' I answered, clearly and firmly. ' He
is here. He is stronger than I or you, and He
takes care of us both.'
" He looked hard at me, and I looked back
fearlessly (apparently) at him, resolved that my
glance should not be the first to falter. At last,
after a deadly but silent battle between his will
and mine, his eyes quailed and fell, and I knew
instinctively that I had gained a victory, for he
fidgeted uneasily on the seat, and turned his head
away, while I breathed more freely.
"After a short silence, he said in a hoarse
whisper, as though afraid of being heard : ' I
say, I can't sleep, that's why I come out so
early. My servants ' (with a wave of the hand
and the assumption of a grand seigneur) 'have
their orders always to keep my breakfast hot ! '
Then, with a howl of bitter distress, he cried out :
* Oh, oh ! if I could only sleep ! I would give
kingdoms to sleep ! '
'* It is remarkable that as he gave utterance to
this bitter cry, in spite of the deadly fear I felt
and of the almost certainty that I should never
256
A Half-true Story
live to tell this tale, a mighty sympathy arose in
my heart for the wretched maniac ; for did I not
know, as well almost as he, the agony of sleep-
lessness ?
** I therefore said, kindly and pityingly, ' How
strange ! I, too, cannot sleep ! '
" Looking at me with a world of despair in his
face, he said, ' Is it a curse? ' Then, rocking himself
to and fro on the seat, he moaned out, ' Ah, what
— what shall I do to sleep ? '
*' There was such a ring of anguish in his tones
that my heart bled for him, and I said gently,
' Oh ! try what I have tried — that which is after
all the only comfort, waking or sleeping.'
" ' What's that ? ' he said eagerly.
" * Pray ! ' I said.
" ' Oh ! ' he answered wearily, ' I have prayed,
but God won't hear me. How can He, when He
is up there ' — pointing to the sky — * and I am left
in that hell ^ ' — pointing towards the madhouse.
" ' But He does hear,' I said solemnly and as to
a child. ' He sees and hears ^"u^r)'//;/;/^. He sees
you and me here now. He knew we should meet
this morning, and He it is who teaches me to say
to you, Pray ! Tell Him, when lying on your
257 R
Miscellanies
restless bed, just as you have told me — that you
can't sleep, that you suffer, that you are unhappy,
that — that '
" I was going on, when my companion suddenly
started up, and looking uneasily around, whispered,
' Hush ! hark ! '
" He seemed to listen eagerly, and then, with an
expression in his face of intense hatred, gradually
and cautiously drew the hand, hitherto concealed,
out of his breast.
*'A deadly sickness seized me, for my worst fears
were realised when I beheld the light of the dawn-
ing day gleam upon the blade of a murderous-
looking knife ; but a ray of hope was at the same
moment vouchsafed to me, for, following with my
eyes the direction of his — oh, joy ! two horsemen
were apparent through the trees, trotting slowly
along a grassy pathway generally only used by foot-
passengers, and each carried a ready-cocked pistol
and seemed in eager search.
" Of course I knew they were on the track of the
wretched man at my side, and although they were
quite within hail, I dared not either call or make
them a sign, feeling convinced that had I done
either the knife would have been plunged into my
258
A Half-true Story
bosom, for I perceived the maniac was watching me
narrowly, and he evidently meant to sell his liberty
dearly.
" * Had the horsemen seen us ? ' I wondered, in
an agony of hope and fear ; but I dared not move,
and words would utterly fail me to express my
sensations when I suddenly saw my miserable com-
panion start to his feet, brandishing the knife, and,
leaving his side of the seat, come towards mine.
I was preparing, as a last resource, to scream and
run for my life, when, to my amazement, instead
of attacking me, the poor wretch threw himself
on his knees at my feet, trembling like a leaf, and,
burying his face in m.y lap — I had never relin-
quished my seat — said, in a hurried and imploring
whisper, ' Save me from those two men ; they did
not see me. For the love of God don't give me up
to them. You are good and kind, and are sorry
for me, and you have told me to pray ; so now I
pray God and I pray you, don't — don't give me
up.'
" For an instant he remained motionless, with
his arms buried in my lap, and I really don't know
what folly my womanly impulse of intense sym-
pathy might not have tempted me to commit had
259
Miscellanies
I not at that instant caught sight of the knife
which he still grasped tightly in his hand. I
shuddered as I saw it, and he must have felt
me do so ; for, raising his head quickly, and
putting his awful face close to mine, he mut-
tered fiercely, and half to himself, ' She doesn't
look true. Oh, if 1 thought she would betray
me! '
" Now, certainly, I thought my last hour must
have come ; but, in spite of my desperation, I
managed to say calmly and in an authoritative
whisper, ' Hush ! be quiet, or they will hear you !
They will soon have passed, and then you shall
come home with me.' (' O God ! ' I thought,
* did the horsemen see us .^ ')
" He crouched down obediently, like a child,
hiding his face on my knees ; and once more I
cried for divine assistance in my awful need,
— and again my prayer was answered, for, on
looking despairingly across the wood, I saw,
within thirty or forty yards of us, and behind
the unfortunate man on his knees — the same two
men who had passed by on horseback. So they
had seen us, and help was at hand at last ! They
were creeping towards us, and making signs to
a 60
A Half-true Story
me not to move, so as to give them time to ap-
proach. I leant, therefore, over the wretched
maniac, gently stroking his hair, and speaking
soothingly to him, telling him ' for his life not to
rise or show himself — not to move till the men
were gone.' So he knelt on, with his head buried
in my lap, and trembling with fear. I must con-
fess that at this moment I hated myself and felt a
very Delilah, for the poor fellow began to stammer
forth a few disjointed words from the Lord's
Prayer. But what — what could I do ?
" And the men kept coming on silently and
stealthily — nearer — closer, till at last one of them
sprang forward, and threw some kind of cloth over
the madman's head, while his companion placed
gyves upon his wrists, and then — then I saw the
hideous knife fall harmlessly to the ground !
" I know not to this day how it happened,
but before (I suppose) the cloth had quite blinded
the astonished maniac, and in the struggle that
followed, he bit my hand nearly to the bone !
I have the mark now, and always shall have it ;
but so excited was I that I never even felt the
wound till, on my way home, I saw the blood !
" It is not easy for me to describe what I felt
261
Miscellanies
when, after the keepers had uncovered the poor
wretch's face and were leading him away (cowed
and manacled but not subdued), he looked
witheringly at me, and said between his teeth,
' God's bitterest curse upon you^ for you
cheated me with your prayers and lying words,
and I trusted you and you betrayed me ! '
"Then came a string of imprecations, in the
midst of which the keepers hurried him into a
vehicle which was following, and they drove away.
" My story is done. How I got home I know
not ; I was more dead than alive, and for weeks
that awful face, those bitter curses, and the cry,
' I trusted you and you betrayed me ! ' haunted
me ; and on every anniversary of that day I rise at
the exact hour, and on my knees pray God to
bless, protect, and comfort him^ should he still be
living, and all wretched beings like him whose
humanity is shattered and their lives a living
death."
262
I
THE CRIMSON PORTRAIT
[This story is also partly true ; the picture mentioned is
in my possession, but the personalities of the different mem-
bers of the family mentioned are mostly fictitious.]
I SAT motionless for some moments, and then —
looked again. Yes, It was there still ! So, with
a beating heart, I rose from my writing-table and
approached It, but as / got nearer, It seemed to
get fainter. Hastily pressing forward, and putting
out my hand as though to grasp — to retain It, It
was no longer there !
It was very strange, and I felt extremely
agitated ; but with some amount of courage I
again sat down to my writing, determined to collect
my scared senses and to watch.
Before, however, describing what followed, I will
give as condensed a history as I can of the singular
picture which had thus alarmed me.
It had belonged to the late lord, my hus-
band's father, who had died under peculiar
263
Miscellanies
circumstances, leaving his affairs in much con-
fusion.
Owing, however, to the blessed law of entail, he
was unable to ruin his heir, as he undoubtedly
wished to do, for he and his eldest son, my husband,
had never been on good terms ; indeed, I should
not be guilty of exaggeration were I to say they
had ever been on the very worst ; and this bitter-
ness between father and son had much increased
during the last few years, because the latter had
stoutly refused to entertain the former's wish that
the entail should be broken. My husband loved
and clung to the places and things with which he
had been familiar all his life ; besides, he knew, as
did his brothers, whom he consulted, that his
father, in suggesting such a thing, was prompted
by no honourable motive.
" As I am the last in entail," said my husband,
" it rests with me to prevent the squandering of
the fortune, or the selling of the heirlooms that
have been ours for generations."
" My father," answered Leo, the youngest
brother, bitterly, " says he wishes to pay some *debt
of honour,' but I doubt the 'honour.' No; he
means to pay for another ' fling ' before old age,
264
The Crimson Portrait
and the inability to enjoy himself, shall overtake
him."
" Ah ! " said Reginald, the second brother,
"don't talk to me of 'honour'! / can never
forget our poor mother's broken heart and subse-
quent death. He wants money, of course, to
provide for that ."
"Well, well," hastily interrupted my husband,
" it cannot be my duty to injure all of you."
And thus it was agreed, to the old lord's great
disappointment, that the entail should not be
broken. For centuries the family had owned,
besides houses and land, many heirlooms, such as
jewels, pictures, rare china, and historical furni-
ture, and when my husband's father became aware
that his son would not give up his right to these
things, he, possessing amongst other delightful
qualities a most revengeful disposition, determined
to " pay out " his heir for thus coercing him, and
set to work to do so after the following ingenious
fashion.
Upon different plausible excuses, he packed up
many of the portable heirlooms in boxes ; he
also dismounted and rolled up some of the
priceless paintings — " for their better security,"
265
Miscellanies
he declared, if ever he found it necessary to
explain his actions — and put them all under the
charge of individuals vv^ith whom he alone was
acquainted. At the same time he took care,
for fear of alarming the receivers, not to dis-
close the histories or the value of the confided
articles; but in each case he paid a sum of money
down, upon the understanding that none of the
valuables, under any circumstances, should be
delivered up to any one but himself.
Most of the individuals he thus trusted had been
the old lord's boon companions, men not too
particular as to how they earned a few pounds ;
and also they lived, most of them, at a convenient
distance — some even abroad.
Meanwhile, pains were taken that no memo-
randa should be left, either to indicate the where-
abouts of the valuables or in any way to facilitate
their recovery. Thus, when their owner died
suddenly a year or two later, there was a tre-
mendous hue and cry in the family. What had
become of the missing articles, which were all
mentioned in the heirloom list ^ No one could
say.
The trouble, expense and difficulties, therefore,
266
The Crimson Portrait
attending the discovery and recovery of all these
treasures would certainly, had he been cognisant
of them, have fully satisfied the offended father's
revengeful malice.
By dint, however, of advertising, calling in
detectives, and other methods, every valuable was
at last restored, save one — namely, the picture
which was now hanging in my writing-room.
For quite two years it could not be traced. It was
mentioned once in the catalogue as the portrait
of the old lord's great-grandfather (the ancestor
from whom most of the family property had
accrued) ; and once again in the " Family Annals "
(an old volume carefully treasured in the " Charter
Room "), in which the said gentleman was in-
variably styled " ye Wicked Lord." Of this
appellation he seemed to have been aware, and he
was as proud of it as of the beauty of his person,
which was renowned.
The missing portrait was mentioned in the
list as "The Crimson Portrait," and my hus-
band could only just remember it, as it had
always, during his boyhood, hung in a room
very rarely used, and situated at the top of the
house.
267
Miscellanies
A curious cypher, now faint from age, was
bracketed to the name of the portrait in the
list ; it resembled the well-known jettatura sign
of the hand, with outstretched first and fourth
fingers, supposed by superstitious persons to
exorcise the Evil Eye.
Every means were taken, at the time of the
old lord's demise, to discover this picture, but in
vain, and my husband began to despair of tracing
it. But one day he received a foreign letter from
a certain "Josef Hoffman," who stated that, in
consequence of a long absence from home, he
had not heard of the old lord's death, nor had he
seen the advertisements about the missing picture ;
indeed, he stated he had forgotten all about the
painting until he noticed it on his return, quite
lately, rolled up in his lumber-yard ! He wished
now to return it to its owner.
" Will your lordship come yourself^'' Josef
wrote, " and fetch it } for I have something very
particular to communicate, for your lordship's ear
only. Pray come quickly, for I am a dying man."
There was a postscript added : "It is carefully
rolled up, with the words, ' The Crimson Portrait,'
written on the cover. — J. H."
268
The Crimson Portrait
My husband was overjoyed at this news, and
much mystified ; so he travelled himself, as
requested, to the village of Iseghem in Belgium.
But on entering the house he was informed that
Josef Hoffman had died an hour before his
arrival. The poor man's son, however, was there,
apparently overwhelmed with grief; and on
seeing my husband, who produced Josef's letter,
he delivered up the picture, " Acting," he said,
" upon his father's orders."
*' He expected to see me, did he not ? " asked
my husband.
" He did, my lord," answered the youth, " and
was looking for you all yesterday and the day
before."
" But did he leave no message for me ^ "
" None, my lord."
But as the young man helped to put the picture
into the hired conveyance, and bade my husband a
courteous farewell, he devoutly crossed himself
and said, in French, he was glad to get rid of
the picture, as they had had no luck — at least,
so his poor father had said — ever since it had
been in their keeping.
Although my husband distinctly heard the
269
Miscellanies
youth say these words, he only remembered
them later, and upon his return home, and as
soon as we conveniently could, we obtained the
help of a competent picture-dealer, who carefully
unrolled the canvas, and pronounced the picture
in "almost" perfect preservation.
"Almost!" echoed my husband. "Why al-
most ? Is it damaged in any way ? "
" Well," answered the old man, after cautiously
examining the picture in all lights, " there is one
spot there " — indicating with his finger — " there
— in that corner, and spreading towards the
front, which seems curiously faded."
" But why," interrupted I, scarcely noticing the
old dealer's words, " why should it be called
* The Crimson Portrait,' when the gentleman
it represents is dressed from top to toe in
russet brown ? There is not a touch of crim-
son in the whole picture."
In fact, the painting exhibited a distinguished-
looking man, clad entirely in brown. He faced
the spectator, and his head was slightly turned to
the right, as though in a listening attitude, while
an amused smile curled his lips. The features
were fine, rather of a Mephistophelean type ; but
270
The Crimson Portrait
the smile was that of " Mephisto " in a pleased
humour.
On the left of the picture was painted a balcony
opening to a garden beyond ; while at the back a
dark curtain was represented, which half disclosed
a panelled door.
The " Wicked Lord " seemed in the act of
passing through a marble-pillared hall, and some
sound appeared to have arrested and amused him,
for he was apparently pausing for a moment, as
he stood on the black and white tessellated pave-
ment.
" It is a magnificent work of art," reiterated
the picture-dealer, without noticing my query;
" but that faded corner is a blemish. It has the
effect of a shadow in the wrong place. Shall
I try to clean it? or might I touch it up a
little .? "
" Heaven forbid ! " ejaculated my husband,
who had a righteous horror of any *' touch-
ing up." Then, fearful lest he should have
hurt the old man's feelings, he added that
he had gone to so much expense lately over
the picture, he must wait a little before doing
more.
271
Miscellanies
Then arose the question, Where should it be
hung ?
" In my writing-room," I implored.
"The 'Wicked Lord' is scarcely a suitable
companion for my gentle little wife," laughed
my husband, " but she shall have her way."
So, to my delight, 1 was permitted to appro-
priate the picture, and it was forthwith hung
exactly opposite my writing-table.
V/eeks elapsed, and I had become quite accus-
tomed to the " Wicked Lord's " society, while
the portrait's disappearance and recovery were
now ancient history and quite forgotten.
And here we are, having arrived at the point in
the narrative whence I started.
I was sitting one morning, writing. The letter
was one of medium importance, and, finding
myself at a loss for the moment for a suitable
word, I began, with much lack of originality, first
to nibble the top of my pen, and then to gaze
casually and vaguely about me, at nothing in
particular. Suddenly I glanced upward at the
portrait, and was struck by a very curious change
which appeared to have come over that portion
of it which the old dealer had pronounced "faded."
272
The Crimson Portrait
I watched it narrowly for some seconds just to
convince myself that I was the victim of no illu-
sion— no fancy. But, no ! the strange shadow,
though still grey and misty, was undoubtedly
deepening and changing in colour ; and to my
further amazement, as I looked, it — the " shadowy
appearance " — took the form of a woman ! She
was crouching on the ground, close behind the
man in brown, and it gave one the idea that she
had crept noiselessly (as she thought), through the
curtained door, but that the Brown Man, as
evinced by his listening attitude and contemp-
tuous smile, was perfectly aware of her presence.
Gradually the drapery about the woman's figure
assumed a faint but ever-deepening crimson, and
I could now distinguish that she held something
concealed in her hand, but I failed to discern
what.
For a moment I stared in stupid astonishment
at the misty object, then I shut and rubbed my
eyes and looked again. Yes, there it was still.
So, with really praiseworthy courage, I rose and
approached it. But, as I did so, the woman's
figure began to melt away. I was close enough,
however, to put my hand out and touch it, and
273 s
Miscellanies
how foolish I felt ! There was nothing there but
canvas and paint, with the Brown Man looking on
at me, with his insulting, amused smile.
Much irritated, and not to say alarmed, I
returned to my writing, but my heart beat as
though it must burst, and I trembled in every
limb.
For some minutes, however, I obstinately wrote
on ; then, feeling impelled to look up once more,
I saw the awful shape becoming each moment
more and more distinct ; for I now made out
what the woman held in her hand (which was so
tightly clenched as to show every bone in it). It
was a dagger !
Her drapery had once more deepened in
colour, and was now of a vivid crimson ;
but what, I think, alarmed me most was
the fact that, although her face was turned
towards the " Wicked Lord," her glittering
eyes were apparently watching me with a
curiously threatening expression, as though,
panther-like, she were only awaiting my least
movement to spring.
With a terrified gasp, and expecting I know
not what, I rose again to my feet. " I can bear
274
The Crimson Portrait
this strain no longer," I whispered ; " I must get
away out of the room." But how to pass that
woman ?
Making one ineffectual step forward, I stumbled,
and fell down unconscious !
I cannot have lain there many minutes, for
when I came to myself I was still alone, still on
the ground close to the picture, with the blood
oozing from a deep scratch on my arm I
My nerves by this time were totally unstrung ;
an excuse for the fact that, at that moment,
nothing earthly would have persuaded me but
that the panther-woman herself had wounded
— scratched me — with the dagger, of course.
As I rose from the ground I cast a terrified
glance at the picture, and thanked heaven that but
one figure was now perceptible, and that it was
the brown one.
With a sobbing prayer I hastened by, out of
the room, anxious to feel myself within hail of
any "humans" — husband, children, or servants,
I cared not which ! I had had enough of super-
humans.
Becoming calmer, I sought my husband, but he
was out, and after a quiet cogitation, I determined
275
Miscellanies
I would put off relating to him my extraordinary
experience, for I felt intuitively that, were he to
believe it — and me — it would annoy him; but that,
on the other hand, if he disbelieved it, and thought
it only my fancy, he would ridicule me ; and if
there is one thing I dislike more than another it
IS ridicule, or to be accused of hysterical fancies.
All the same, I was resolved upon one point :
Come what mighty I would never be alone with that
picture again I It must be removed out of my
room, and at once. But what reason (unless I gave
the true one) could 1 give for such apparent
caprice ? I had made such a point of having it in
my sitting-room. That there was something
demoniacal about the painting I had not a doubt
— and a mystery also ; otherwise, why should it be
mentioned in the list as *' The Crimson Portrait,"
when, in its normal state, there was no tinge
of crimson to be seen ? No ! the people who
wrote that list must have known. There was
certainly something "uncanny" about it. So,
come what might, the "Wicked Lord" and his
ferociously crimson lady must part company with
mCy and at once.
Very quickly, chance, or, more strictly, a
276
The Crimson Portrait
beneficent Providence, came to my aid in the
matter, and on that very evening ! It happened
thus:
We had a small dinner-party, and among the
friends we had invited was a great Royal Acade-
mician— Sir F L . In the course of con-
versation my husband related to his guest the odd
story of the portrait's disappearance and subse-
quent recovery. Thereupon the Royal Acade-
mician expressed a wish to make the " Brown
Lord's " acquaintance, and after having done so,
he pronounced the picture " a work of art of
great value " ; but, he added, he considered it
badly hung.
" It is too large," he said, " for where it is
placed, and also it is in a bad light ; for, if you
remark, there is a curious shadow in the corner of it^
which looks as if it were faded, and this would
not show so much if it were hung in the dining-
room among the other portraits. Put it over the
fire-place — there, where the mirror is now."
" But," objected my husband, " my lady wants
the picture in her room."
I hastened at once to assure him, with much
apparent self-abnegation, that I would not for the
277
Miscellanies
world condemn such a valuable picture to a place
unworthy of it ; and after much praise for my
unselfishness (!) its removal was decided on.
Just before the Royal Academician finally bade
us good-night, he said : " Did I not perceive a
rod and running rings fixed upon the frame of
the picture, as though a curtain had at some time
been hung across it ? "
My husband answered that, now he thought of
it, there was a dark velvet curtain in a room up-
stairs, which probably was the one ; for embroi-
dered in its corner was the same cypher as that
which was to be seen opposite the portrait's name in
the catalogue.
" May I see the curtain ? " asked the Royal
Academician ; and after examining it, he laughed
and said, '* It is to be hoped there is no
diablerie attached to the portrait, as the cypher
might suggest ; for, don't you see, it is the
jettatura ? "
I could see from my husband's manner that this
half-jest from a comparative stranger was dis-
tasteful to him, for his only weakness — and a
very small one — was an over-sensitiveness re-
garding his family and ancestors; they were, in
278
The Crimson Portrait
his eyes, too sacred to be joked about, or even
lightly spoken of.
So the Royal Academician was not invited again
for some time. The picture was removed into
the drawing-room at once ; but, bearing in mind
the conversation just narrated between my hus-
band and the Royal Academician, I again put off
my confession to the former, judging it would be
irritating to him, and wanting in tact in me, were
I to relate my experience just now. " I will bide
my time," I thought, "and perhaps the beautiful
murderess " — (for that her intentions were^ or
had been at one time, murderous, who could
doubt ? or wherefore the dagger ?) — may shrink
from rehearsing her bloody attempts in an apart-
ment so constantly full of guests as our dining-
room."
I confess, however, that I never entered the
room alone if I could help it, nor could I glance
at the picture without a shudder.
One evening we had a large dinner-party, in
honour of the engagement of a young girl to a
cousin of my husband. We had a very merry meal,
and during the entertainment my husband related
the story of the picture and its recovery, as I thought
279
Miscellanies
he was too fond of doing, for /always tried to forget
the horrid thing and all about it ; consequently,
all eyes had been turned admiringly towards it,
except my own, for I always sat with my back to
it, if I could so manage without disarranging the
symmetry of the table.
When the time came for us ladies to rise and
leave the gentlemen to their wine, it was suggested
that before we left the room we should drink the
health of the happy fiances^ Highland fashion —
that is, standing, the men with each one foot on
the table. This was done with acclamation ;
and as we were filing out of the room, the poor
little promise electrified us all by giving a piercing
shriek, and, without further ado, fainting on her
lover's shoulder.
We carried her at once to an open window in
the next room, sending every one away, and she
soon recovered, but seemed to be labouring under
extreme terror, and I noticed that she was evi-
dently greatly relieved at finding herself in a
different room. I made a shrewd guess, therefore,
as to the cause of her alarm.
She had been placed at dinner exactly opposite the
picture^ and upon my pressing her to tell me if
280
The Crimson Portrait
anything had frightened her, she whispered in
my ear just what I expected to hear.
" That picture," she sobbed out hysterically.
" That horrid, horrid picture ! And oh ! that
terrible woman ! Where did she come from } And
those wicked, malicious, glittering^ leering" —
each word screamed louder than the last — " EYES !
I shall never, never forget them, nor her. Oh !
where's Ernest ? Tou sat with your back" (she
meant, I presume, to the picture) " and didn't
see it. / did ! But oh ! where's Ernest? If he
doesn't come directly I shall go off again. Oh !
oh ! " and she gave such indubitable signs of fol-
lowing out her intention that, after more salts and
sal-volatile, I packed her off in the brougham
with her Ernest, in the hope that he would com-
fort her on the way home. " Anyhow," I over-
heard the old butler say confidentially to my maid,
"it is to be 'oped he will stop her noise."
After this esclandre I felt I could keep my
secret no longer. So I, then and there, and in
the presence of the few guests who still remained,
told my husband my own experience, now so
curiously corroborated by so unprejudiced and
voluble a witness as the yonng fiancee.
281
Miscellanies
As I foresaw, he was much put out, and beuig
entirely " at sea " as to what measures he should
take, or whether he should take any at all, he re-
lieved himself by being angry with everybody.
He was very angry with me because I had kept
the story to myself, and, with praiseworthy
consistency, was angrier still with " that stupid,
hysterical girl," as he called the little fiancee^
because she had not.
" Making such a row," he said, " and telling
such a cock-and-bull story." Then, with sarcasm,
he asked our startled guests " whether any one of
them had seen anything, and if any had, would
they kindly speak, for now was their time. Had
any other questionable individuals forced them-
selves into their society ? " But at that moment
all were so much astonished at their host's un-
reasonable wrath, that had the devil himself and
his angels appeared and claimed acquaintance, they
would have shaken hands warmly with them all
rather than irritate their host further.
After this outburst the guests all quickly dis-
persed, and my husband, in much annoyance,
declared there was " nothing tangible " in the
story. Nor had I the courage to point out to
282
The Crimson Portrait
him that the very fact of non-tangibleness was
just the alarm-gauge of all such coincidences.
The picture, he declared, was like every other
picture (so it was at that moment), and that he
would see every one very far off before [he
would banish one of his most valuable paintings
to the garrets in consequence of " a love-sick
girl's silly cackle." All the same, I saw he was
uneasy, and knew his excitement would not last.
So I waited, and when he got over it a little, I
suggested his searching among the family records
to find out all he could concerning the " Wicked
Lord " and his familiars, and also that the curtain,
which had been put away, should be replaced on
the frame. " But," I diplomatically added, " it
need not always be drawn, you know." My
advice was taken. The curtain was re-hung,
and search was made among the old papers in
the hope of finding out something.
" Perhaps," my dear, noble-minded husband
said, " we may discover some wrong, even after
all these years, which it may be our happy lot
to set right."
One day, with a pale face and shaking hand,
he brought me a manuscript, all torn and defaced
283
Miscellanies
by age, which told us everything, and more than
everything, that we wished to know. It recorded
a fearful tale of crime perpetrated by the " Wicked
Lord," and recorded threats of undying revenge
on the part of the " Crimson Lady."
*' We, alas ! " said my husband, after reading
the manuscript, " can do nothing. No single
creature is now living to whom we could make
amends for our ancestor's sin ; all we can do is to
strive, by our own innocent lives, to wipe out the
stain we have discovered."
And certainly he acted up to this determination
as far as he was concerned. The fact of shame
being attached to the name of any ancestor of his,
however remote, was to him a source of real pain
and grief.
He gave strict orders that the curtain should
always be kept drawn in front of the portrait,
and added he would have it removed upstairs as
soon as possible, into the room where it originally
hung ; but one thing and another helped to put
this decision out of his mind, until a circum-
stance occurred which hastened his action in the
matter.
We had dined late one evening, my husband and
284
The Crimson Portrait
I, alone ; and after dinner we had adjourned into
the conservatory, which led out of the dining-
room. We sat there and had coffee. The servants,
meantime, we could hear, had cleared away the
dinner and put out the lights, while we sat silent,
not to say sleepy.
Suddenly we heard — something — a sound which
gave us both a violent start.
It issued from the next room — a jingling noise,
twice repeated, as of the rings of a curtain being
suddenly and vehemently drawn aside. For a
second we looked at one another ; then my hus-
band rang the bell violently, and, springing for a
light, he and I rushed into the darkened dining-
room.
On entering, we perceived at once that the curtain
which, during dinner, had certainly been drawn
across the picture, was now wide open — both sides ;
and as we approached, we distinctly saw the
"Crimson Lady's" glittering eyes positively shining
at us through the semi-darkness, like those of an
angry animal. As we drew closer, however, they
became dimmer, and " went out " as it were, and
we found ourselves standing opposite the "Wicked
Lord " only, with his eternal smile.
285
Miscellanies
By][ this time the old butler, Simpkins, had
entered the room, amazed at the vehemence of the
summons which he had received. He was accus-
tomed to taking things easily was Simpkins, and
after a dignified fashion, for he was an old man,
whose father, grandfather, and great-grandfather
had all been in the family's service. Simpkins had
never been known to be flurried or in an undignified
hurry. Now he stood before his master, calmly
inquiring, " Your lordship rang ? "
" Who has been in this room since you cleared
away ? " angrily asked my husband. " Did I not
give strict orders, too, that thaS curtain " (the old
man now perceived for the first time that the
curtain was open, and turned pale) " was to be kept
drawn ? Who dared to open it just now ? It is
some low trick, and I will find it out. Who has
been here, I say ? "
" No one, my lord," answered the shaking
Simpkins in an injured tone. " Your lordship's
orders have always been carefully obeyed ; no
living soul " (slightly emphasised) " has been here
since dinner."
My husband looked, and was, terribly perplexed.
Simpkins being, as he felt, more of a friend than
286
The Crimson Portrait
a servant, one whose family, too, had lived on the
estate as long as his own, and whose word was
always to be trusted, could not for one moment
be supposed capable of conniving at some low
practical joke. How, then, was it possible to
account for . . . ?
" Your lordship's orders," repeated Simpkins
emphatically, " have been obeyed to the letter ;
but it is my opinion, as well as that of my col-
leagues " (it is impossible to adequately describe
Simpkins' dignity as he said these words) " that it
is the work of the Evil One ! We can't keep that
curtain " (Simpkins pronounced it " cutting ")
''closed, do what we will. And I — we" (looking
apprehensively around, and speaking in a terrified
whisper) " have actually seen the 'and that opens it
— a woman's 'and with a dagger hin it ! "
After such evidence as this, the picture was
condemned to be banished ; but none of the
servants would aid in its removal. They were
afraid to touch it, they said. So two strange
workmen were called in to carry it upstairs : one
had his foot badly crushed, the picture having
slipped and fallen upon it, while the other received
a long^ -painful scratch on the arm — " from a nail,"
287
Miscellanies
he supposed ; the nail, however, was nowhere to
be found, and the scratch was exactly in shape
like the one which once appeared on my arm.
And then it was, when the portrait was again
lodged in its garret, that my husband remem-
bered and repeated to me the words that had fallen
from young Hoffman's lips on the day that he
brought away the picture from Belgium — words
which he had scarcely noticed at the time.
THE END.
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &^ Co
London &" Edinburgh
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